When You Touch Me
by Steppenwoelfin
Summary: Severus Snape is forced to marry a mute Harry Potter, who has lost his voice after his latest clash with Voldemort. It is through touch, in many senses, that Severus and Harry slowly get to know each other...Chapter 43 posted.
1. Prologue

**WHEN YOU TOUCH ME**

A/N: Suffering from Snarryian withdrawal symptoms is not the most pleasant of things ;-D Allow me to welcome you to my brand-new Snarry story! I find it hard to believe that this is my fifth one! Once again, thank you for following _Tears of Healing_, and I am looking forward to another journey with you as I write _When You Touch Me_. In fact, by reading and reviewing my stories, you write along with me, too. Updates and info can, as usual, be found on my Snarry blog (cf. profile page). Hugs, Steppi. PS: Harry's utterances are indicated in slashes – because they are telepathic ;-)

**Prologue**

_Your eyes are black. In figurative speech, especially, darkness is portrayed as the embodiment of ignorance, blundering and evil. It is ridiculous. For me, black is the colour of knowledge. Of life. Of love. I just have to look into your eyes or run my hands through your long black hair and I know that I'm right._

_Yesterday, I observed that it really ought to be written down. The whole story. Although I really don't know where to begin. It's the usual problem. It's kind of like trying to find the beginning of the beginning. You smiled that special smile which only I have the privilege of witnessing. You stooped and whispered into my ear, saying that I should start right away._

_I have just finished attending this evening's teaching class and now I'm nibbling at my quill and dog-earing a piece of parchment. I hear your footsteps behind me; you have finished grading the first-year-students' Potions essays. You end up seducing me away from my timid attempts to set down our story on parchment and make sure that the whole of me responds to your touch - like an entranced listener to Orpheus's music._

_"Something to add to the chronicles of our life. Perhaps for the epilogue," you drawl to me afterwards, your arm wrapped around me. I look into your eyes, and I see it all there. Love. Life. Two things you never had, as you told me when Spinner's End was destroyed – Sinner's End, as you called it with that trademark cynicism of yours._

_I inform you that there is no epilogue._

_"What is there then?" you whisper to me. Your breath is gentle, and for some reason or the other, I think of a dandelion spore floating on a breeze, or a dust mote drifting and whirling in the air._

_/How about an endless beginning?/ I suggest. You laugh and run your fingers through my hair. Laughing genuine happy laughter is something you never used to do. Until the two of us, of all people, ended up getting married. It was Dumbledore's fault, of course…and one of his more infamously brilliant brainwaves._


	2. Chapter 1

**CHAPTER 1**

_It was an unspoken and unpleasant tradition for every school year I spent at Howarts to end with a "meeting" between Voldemort and myself. My sixth year at Hogwarts was no exception. It is enough to say that I saw him face to face again in Hogsmeade after Draco Malfoy, his latest Death Eater, kidnapped Luna Lovegood and Ginny Weasley; and I saw red with anger and worry, tracking him down with Ron and Hermione. He managed to rob my voice forever with a spell – but Luna and Ginny were safe and unharmed, and that was what counted, even though losing my voice was a hard blow, naturally. You saved my life – yet again. You were also forced to expose your true role, to disclose your loyalty towards Dumbledore and your loathing for Voldemort. Dumbledore had to protect both of us with all his power – and he found a possibility, for we were both marked by Voldemort: I had my scar and you bore the Dark Mark on your forearm. There was only one way to ally those marks to ensure protection similar to the one I had lost in my fourth year: you and I had to marry. I felt numb and terrified when Dumbledore summoned me to his office and told me his plan. I said, or rather wrote, yes. I was still absorbing the shock of the whole situation when the door opened and you stepped inside. It was your turn, and I was bracing myself for your reaction._

---

Severus stared at Dumbledore, his gaunt face eerily pale.

"You. Are. Suggesting. That. I. Marry. Potter," he bit out, enunciating each word slowly and clearly.

"I see no other way, my boy," Dumbledore said.

"The. Marriage. Would. Naturally. Have. To. Be. Consummated," Severus continued frostily. Harry remained calm; only his hands, shoved in his pockets to hide the nervous twisting of his fingers, and his green eyes, which darted between the two older wizards, betrayed his unease.

"Yes," Dumbledore answered softly.

"ARE YOU MAD? POTTER IS A TEENAGE STUDENT! HE IS NOT AN ADULT YET! I AM OLD ENOUGH TO BE HIS FATHER! I WENT TO SCHOOL WITH HIS FATHER!" Severus shouted, spelling out the last word as he threw the remaining vestiges of his composure to the Hippgogriffs, "I CAN UNDERSTAND YOUR LOW OPINION OF MY MORALS DUE TO MY PAST, BUT _THIS_-"

"Severus. You know that-"

"You don't know anything about what I know!" Severus interrupted him. "Do you realise that the wedding rites you have in mind require the older party to BUGGER his partner first? I would rather that Potter-" he spat out the name and shot the youth a venomous glance, "ploughed _my_ rectum than vice versa!"

"Severus. Please."

Severus's tall frame radiated anger.

"I refuse to submit to this bestial business!" he stated coldly.

"You would have three months until consummation-"

"FUCK THE CONSUMMATION AND FUCK THIS MARRIAGE PLAN OF YOURS!" Severus bellowed, slapping Dumbledore's desk with his palms with such force that the wood groaned in protest, "I have been labelled many things, but I refuse to be branded a RAPIST!"

Harry reached out and touched Severus's elbow lightly. It was the sort of thing only a Gryffindor was audacious enough to attempt – it was like remaining near a volcano which was on the verge of exploding.

"DON'T TOUCH ME!" Severus spat, rounding on him.

Harry turned towards Dumbledore's desk, pointing at the phoenix feather quill. Dumbledore understood and handed Harry a piece of parchment and quill. Harry scribbled on it and handed it to Severus, who tore it fiercely to bits without reading it.

"I have saved your ass more than once, and now you will chain me in marriage to you, you tiresome little-" he started ranting at Harry, who looked completely torn, wanting to speak but not being able to.

"Severus, Harry would also need to learn Telepathy…" Dumbledore interrupted him mildly.

Severus stared at the Headmaster, then at Harry, then back again. His chest was beginning to heave, and his cheeks were becoming redder and redder.

"_Protego!"_Dumbledore exclaimed just in time as an explosion rocked the office, sending the odd silver instruments on his desk flying all over the room. The portraits of the Headmasters and Headmistresses of Hogwarts rattled against the wall. Some of them crashed onto the floor.

"Severus! Please control yourself!" Dumbledore said, rising and putting an arm around Severus's quivering shoulders. Harry stared at the floor.

"We can organise this, Severus – Minerva could teach Harry Potions…and yes, he _is _underage, but this is a matter of life and death…"

"You are taking it for granted that I will say yes," Severus said, his body suddenly slumping, his voice flat.

Dumbledore simply looked into the black eyes.

"Has _he _said yes?" Severus asked jerkily after a few moments, nodding at Harry without looking at the youth.

Dumbledore held up a small piece of parchment.

"He has."

Severus uttered a bitter laugh.

"That desperate to save your worthless life, Potter?"

Harry didn't answer. He could not; but he gazed steadily at Severus, his green eyes shimmering with a veil of desperate tears. Severus stared back glacially.

"When?" he rapped out finally, looking back at Dumbledore again.

---


	3. Chapter 2

**CHAPTER 2**

A/N: Dear all, I'm sorry about the delay – this time it was because I had the flu. I have finished the fever stage and am currently caught in the runny-nose and blocked-ears phase.

---

_Later, when I asked you why you decided to marry me in spite of your furious protests, you told me that you did it for Dumbledore, that Dumbledore was like the father you never had; but Dumbledore the father was very different from Dumbledore the mentor, the Headmaster, the person in charge of running Hogwarts – and even our lives, to a certain extent. Wedged between an insufferable brat on the verge of tears and an equally insufferable insane genius, as you put it, what other choice did you have? You also told me that you did it for my mother, Lily Evans, because she was very kind and selfless and refused to judge people on the basis of their appearance. _

"_I did not realise what I lost by rejecting her friendship and kindness until it was too late," you said to me. _

_And then you asked me why I said yes. I had matured during my sixth year; I was going to be an adult in the wizarding world. I thought a lot about you after Sirius's death. I wanted to blame you. I wanted to hate you as much as I could. I didn't want to trust you… _

_You saved my life yet again in my sixth year, putting my safety before yours when you revealed your true role to Voldemort. I cannot forget the expression on his snake-face. And I cannot forget your courage, the way you flung your arms around me and threw me onto the floor, out of harm's way, the Killing Curse flying just above our heads. You had been struck by the Cruciatus Curse, and still you looked out for me. There was blood on your lips. You tried to shield me from the next spell, but you were too much in pain…and I lost my voice. The Aurors came, and you were immediately sent to St. Mungo's. That day, I finally realised how much you were ready to sacrifice, and I realised it again in Dumbledore's office. Bitter, harsh and cynical as you were – I started to understand something of what you had suffered and were suffering. I knew that I could trust you. It was guilt which made me sign the parchment – guilt and, however reluctant I was to admit it, gratitude towards you…and, of course, I had just lost my voice. I felt that I had nothing more to lose after that. I was becoming slowly but steadily numbed by one blow following another. Every single spell I performed from now on would have to be voiceless, and we had not learnt the difficult advanced spells in our sixth year - that was reserved for the seventh. Apart from that, I would never be able to say a word aloud again - ever. Dumbledore had asked you to teach me Telepathy, and I remembered our Occlumency lessons only too well. My hope was dying. _

---

Dumbledore opened his mouth to answer, but Harry stepped between the two men, raising the quill and what remained of his parchment. He scribbled on it:

_Only when I turn seventeen._

He held it up.

"It would solve the underage problem, and it would be legal," Dumbledore admitted, "but the marriage would still have to remain secret, and we have to act quickly. The sooner the better; and Harry would not have to stay with his relatives-"

Severus glared and interrupted him harshly:

"I will NOT marry Potter as long as he is a minor – which he will always be mentally, by the way. He can stay with his Muggle relatives until the end of July. They can still protect him."

Harry's eyes flashed, and he opened his mouth to speak – and closed it when he remembered that he could not speak. His eyes dulled. In any case, staying with the Potions Master would be as bad as staying with the Dursleys – or even worse.

"In any case, marriages are automatically registered at the Ministry of Magic. Unions involving an underage partner are forbidden, though you have probably thought of a way to prevent the Ministry from finding out, seeing how you are always forging plans," Severus observed acidly.

"Arthur Weasley and Kingsley Shacklebolt will be notified of the ceremony in advance, and they will make sure to seize the marriage certificate as soon as it appeared at the Ministry and hide it – regardless of your status as a minor or as an adult, Harry. This marriage, of course, will only be known to a handful of people, and it can be terminated just as discreetly by divorce."

Severus snorted.

"Or by death. You have certainly thought of everything, haven't you? What will you give us as a wedding gift, Albus? A jar of lubrication?"

Harry's eyes widened with shock at Severus's rudeness. Not a muscle twitched in Dumbledore's face.

"That is quite enough, Severus. And I expect both of you to treat each other with respect. Severus, will you teach Harry Telepathy?" he said, his voice perfectly calm.

Severus nodded abruptly.

"Harry, will you learn from him?"

Harry nodded as well.

Dumbledore bent and picked up the pieces of the parchment Severus had shredded. Severus watched him with narrowed eyes.

"Don't you want to read what Harry has written?" Dumbledore asked, repairing the torn piece of parchment with a spell.

"Frankly no," Severus snapped, but he grabbed the parchment from Dumbledore and read it aloud:

"'We have to work together if we want to defeat Voldemort'. Well, I suppose marriage does entail a lot of work," the Potions Master sneered, incinerating the parchment. The enforced silence from the youth was starting to become quite unnerving, especially because his face was so still. Dumbledore rubbed his temples tiredly for a few seconds before announcing:

"I suggest the first of August, the day after your seventeenth birthday, Harry."

Harry gave Dumbledore a stiff nod.

"The first of August it is," Severus consented in a bored tone, "a civil marriage, I presume?"

"Yes, my dear boy. However, your closest friends and family may attend the ceremony."

Severus's mouth puckered, becoming a thin hard line. He did not have any friends or family, with the exception of Dumbledore, who, as Severus felt, was not being much of a friend at the moment. He was, however, going to be saddled with a…husband. And that was family. His stomach roiled with disgust. Harry James Potter. Family. Severus flexed his long fingers, the scowl on his face deepening.

The three wizards spent the next twenty minutes discussing the wedding arrangements, Harry scribbling on parchment while Severus shot him glacial glances every now and then. Harry wondered how Hermione and Ron would react to the news.

---

"NO!" Ron's yell echoed around the Gryffindor common room. Harry had felt very thankful that he had lost his voice only after the sixth-year-exams. Now he came to the conclusion that a voice could be annoying – especially when Ron used his voice to shout. Several students looked around, peering at Harry, Hermione and Ron. Ron was clutching a piece of parchment Harry had written. Hermione had gone rather pale, but she remained calm.

"Shhh, Ron," she murmured, touching his arm. Ron took her hand – they had finally, finally, finally got together towards the end of their sixth year – and rubbed her fingers nervously.

"Harry, mate…you cannot…not with…with that…sadist! Is Dumbledore out of his sodding mind?" Ron whispered. Harry made a gesture of helplessness, fighting down the tears. Hermione put her arm around his thin shoulders.

"Harry, I'm sure Professor Dumbledore is not arranging your marriage just because you're both gay and both marked by Voldemort…Stop flinching, Ron! Maybe…it's an attempt to get you to work together. To bury the axe after all these years. Closure and cooperation."

"You call Harry having to be buggered by that idiot _cooperation_? And how does that crazy coot know you're gay, anyway?" Ron asked incredulously.

Hermione glared at him and withdrew her hand.

"_You _are not being very cooperative, Ronald Weasley!" she flared. Ron held up his hands.

"Okay, okay. But Harry…what if he…beats you? Abuses you? Makes you his personal slave?"

"Shut up, Ron! Professor Snape may be rather…difficult, but he will never hurt Harry like that!"

Harry informed them on parchment that they were permitted to attend the ceremony, which would take place in Dumbledore's office.

"I just hope Dad keeps the marriage certificate in a safe place, you never know with George and Fred," Ron said, trying to use humour to relieve the grim situation.

"Your whole family will know anyway, Ron," Hermione, "including the Order of the Phoenix. Will you still have to spend the summer holidays with the Dursleys, Harry?"

Harry nodded his head dully.

_The new protection will only take effect once I have married Snape, and the effect will only last once the marriage has been consummated. I want to wait till I'm of age before I marry._

Ron read the note and shuddered.

"Can't be any worse than staying with Snape," he commented unhelpfully. "And how on earth will you and Snape..." he slid his hands back and forth in a meaningful gesture.

Hermione looked pained.

"Ron!" she hissed.

"Well, at least there's divorce," Ron said. Harry stared gloomily at him. Who knew how long it would take to destroy Voldemort? He was more worried that Snape and he would end up destroying each other for the time being.

"Don't worry, Harry. We're here. We won't leave you alone," Hermione said firmly.

"Yeah, and we'll whisk you away from those Screwts on your birthday – we're all going to celebrate at home," Ron said, ruffling Harry's hair affectionately. Harry smiled, already feeling better.

---


	4. Chapter 3

**CHAPTER 3**

A/N: I forgot to mention that this story follows books 1 till 5. In the meantime...Snarry Christmas ;-)

---

_My last summer with the Dursleys was worse than usual. Without my voice, I was vulnerable and exposed to the verbal scorn of my relatives. Dudley, however, had withdrawn into himself. He was doing a lot of thinking after that nasty incident with the Dementor; and serious thinking definitely did not belong to my cousin's favourite pastimes. I, too, was left with too much time and too much to think over. I was coming to the conclusion that I was nothing more than a pawn. _

---

Harry was waiting in his room at Privet Drive, his trunk packed. In addition, he was carrying a rucksack filled with things which hadn't fit inside the trunk: clothes, books, some Quidditch gear, a bag of owl treats for Hedwig and other miscellaneous articles. Hedwig was cleaning her wing busily with her beak. The remaining days of the Hogwarts term had flown past like migrating birds. A group of the Order of the Phoenix was scheduled to Apparate in the kitchen of the Dursley home. A note had been dispatched to the Dursleys via owl post, warning the Dursleys in advance of this step. Uncle Vernon had naturally nearly had an attack of apoplexy, bellowing that he would never allow a bunch of freaks to enter his home – it was bad enough that he had been housing a freak for years. Petunia, on the other hand, had actually looked relieved. She would finally be rid of Harry, rid of the constant reminder of the sister whose memory she still despised. Dudley had not said anything. He had been abnormally quiet and withdrawn since his encounter with the Dementor. Harry knew that he had probably got a taste of his worst fears during said encounter and was now undergoing a period of decidedly unusual introspection – much to Petunia's and Vernon's consternation. They naturally blamed Harry for Dudley's condition and were only too eager to see him go. Dumbledore had written a letter to the Dursleys explaining the whole situation to the Dursleys, excluding Harry's upcoming marriage with Severus and including the fact that Harry had lost his voice. Vernon and Petunia had made sneering remarks about Harry's muteness and treated him like a person of exceedingly limited intelligence during the summer holidays, enunciating each word slowly, sometimes even spelling it out or repeating it several times.

Harry scratched the knee of his jeans as he waited. He wondered whether Severus would treat him similarly. He thought of the wedding, which was to take place the very next day. He thought of living down in the dungeons with Severus. He thought of having to consummate the wedding within three months after the civil wedding ceremony. He stared at Hedwig's cage and imagined that he was occupying it instead of the owl. There was a sudden hum of voices in the kitchen. Harry stood up and opened the door. He turned on the threshold and surveyed his room intently, taking one last good look at its walls – he would probably never see it again. In spite of his loveless childhood and adolescence, he could recall happy moments which he had experienced in his aunt's and uncle's house – receiving letters and gifts from his friends, enjoying Hedwig's company, reading his Hogwarts books...

"Harry Potter!" Alastor Moody's growling voice floated up the stairs. Harry went down. It struck him as a particularly cruel irony that he was allowed to use magic wherever and whenever he wanted now that he was age but could not because of his muteness. He dragged his trunk down the stairs. A throng of wizards and witches was awaiting him in the kitchen; the Dursleys had barricaded themselves away in the bedroom, not bothering to say bye to Harry or wish him good luck in spite of what they had read in Dumbledore's note. Harry had expected such behaviour – or rather, he had simply not expected anything at all.

"There you are!" Nymphadora Tonks said, her strikingly pink hair illuminating the kitchen. Remus Lupin was standing next to her, tired, shabby and shaggy, but smiling.

Kingsley Shacklebolt shook Harry's hand warmly and spoke in his deep calm voice:

"Are you ready, Harry?"

Harry nodded.

"Have you said goodbye to your relatives?" Tonks asked. Harry shrugged. Remus's eyes followed the momentary rise and fall of Harry's thin shoulders.

"Your friends are waiting for you," he said gently, pulling out a small saucepan – the Portkey which would transport the group to Grimmauld Place.

---

Harry experienced a twisting sensation in his heart as he arrived at Grimmauld Place via Portkey. There was no Sirius to welcome him.

"Harry!" He was enveloped in Molly Weasley's arms. The twins, Ron, Ginny and Hermione were clustered around her; Ron was holding an enormous chocolate cake which his mother had baked in honour of Harry's birthday. A tall hook-nosed wizard was leaning against a carved chair, his black eyes looking at the proceedings with complete impassiveness. Harry met his gaze. Snape stared back at him, his mouth thinning.

"Ah, my...betrothed," he said in silky tones.

Molly Weasley glared at him over her shoulder.

"Albus is waiting for you in the parlour," she said shortly, planting a kiss on Harry's cheek. Harry hugged her back tightly. Severus whisked away with a sneer. Harry noticed that everyone was looking at him with sympathy. Dumbledore had let the cat out of the bag, then. Well, actually he had let one hell of a dragon out of the bag, Harry mused.

"Don't worry, Harry, we can give you stuff to spice up things," George whispered to Harry.

"Yeah, I'm sure Snape's the way he is because he is sexually frustrated," Fred added.

"Maybe he suffers from erectile dysfunction. It is said to be very damaging to the virile ego," George continued.

"I heard that! Out, both of you!" Mrs Weasley exclaimed, manoeuvring the cake onto the dining table with a flick of her wand.

Dinner consisted of a four-course repast to celebrate Harry's coming of age. Severus, Albus and the group which had fetched Harry from the Dursleys did not join the meal or the gift-unwrapping which followed after dessert. Harry noticed that people took care to ask him questions which he could answer by means of using body language, such as yes and no questions to which he could reply by simply nodding or shaking his head. He headed for the room he shared with Ron with a sense of inadequacy after dinner. He tried to feel happy and grateful, but he was finding it increasingly hard to meet the obstacles life was liberally flinging at him with resistance and optimism. His thoughts returned to his impending marriage to Snape. What if Snape turned out to be an abusive husband, and Dumbledore turned a blind eye and deaf ear to abuse, simply saying that he trusted Severus and that it was all for Harry's own good? After all, Dumbledore had sent Harry to live with the Dursleys. Now he was sending him to live with Severus. Harry thought of how he had smashed up Dumbledore's office. He thwacked his pillow with an angry fist and slouched down in bed, listening to Ron beginning to snore.

---


	5. Chapter 4

**CHAPTER 4**

_My wedding day. Doomsday._

---

Harry managed to sleep for only two or three hours. He lay awake in bed from three o'clock onwards, listening to the house creak and groan every now and then as it contracted, rather as if it was in the process of giving birth. Finally, at six o'clock in the morning, Harry rose and went to the bathroom. He had a very long shower – his last shower as a bachelor, he thought dully. He could hear the Weasley twins' jokes about the Potions Master and their speculations that he was sexually frustrated. What if they were right? And what if Snape was cold-blooded enough to abuse Harry sexually? Harry turned the water on hot. Very hot. His skin became red, but Harry let the hot drops flow over his body, his arms wrapped around himself protectively. When he returned to his room after showering, he was greeted by Mrs Weasley, who was holding a set of silvery wedding robes over one arm.

"Good morning, Harry dear," she said, patting his cheek, "I am going to bundle you into these robes after breakfast. Everything has to go smoothly on your wedding day. Why is your skin so red and raw? What have you been doing?"

Scolding him, Mrs Weasley shooed him back into his room, carefully spreading the robes over a chair before she left to prepare breakfast. Ron was up and dressed. He looked at the robes.

"Okay, mate?" he asked Harry, who was staring fixedly at the robes. Harry did not respond.

"Hey," Ron said softly, putting an arm around Harry. Harry's shoulders quivered and Ron saw him clench his jaw as he tried to suppress his tears.

"Harry," Ron said, not knowing what to do. Harry shook his head, gesturing that he would be alright. Ron nevertheless put a warm arm around Harry.

"Come here," he said to Harry, feeling how skinny and bony Harry had become over the holidays. Harry leant against him, eyes tightly shut. A tear ran down one thin cheek. Ron stroked the messy hair.

"It'll all be okay, Harry, you'll see. Hey, do you remember how we first met on the train? Remember the first time we saw Hogwarts?"

Harry smiled against Ron's shoulder and nodded. He wished he could have grown up with Ron.

---

The first of August was cloudy, neither sunny nor rainy. After a quick breakfast and hasty teeth-brushing, Harry was marched off to his room by Mrs Weasley to change into his wedding robes. Not even Hermione and Ron were allowed to witness the process. Once Mrs Weasley had checked Harry's robes for wrinkles and stray threads, she made him sit down on his bed and looked into his green eyes earnestly.

"Harry dear," she said, cupping his face in her work-roughened hands, "you are like a son to me. You have had to carry burdens from the time you were small, and you have carried them with a bravery I wish everyone possessed. Severus Snape, too, is very brave, Harry. He is a...deeply complex man to be around with, but he is not meant to be a burden for you. You are supposed to share and alleviate each other's burdens. Yes, Severus gave me the same look you are giving me now when I told him that. Yes, Harry, I spoke to him. He is practically my son-in-law since he has agreed to marry you, so he's not going to get away so easily."

Harry nodded and smiled.

"That's what he needs, Harry dear. Someone who smiles often," Mrs Weasley said approvingly, "you have to trust him, Harry. Remember that he has saved your life more than once."

Harry nodded again, and Mrs Weasley kissed him on the forehead, her lips brushing his scar. She looked at her watch.

"Ten minutes more," she said, "we will use a Portkey again – we cannot trust the Floo nowadays, what with all the surveillance..."

She took Harry's arm and opened the door. They went into the parlour where Ron, Hermione, the twins and Ginny were playing a game of Exploding Snap.

"I'll be right back, dear," Mrs Weasley said to Harry. Harry sat down next to Ginny. She tapped his knee.

"You'll tell us what Snape's rooms look like, Harry?" she said jokingly.

"Do tell us – we want to smuggle some firecrackers into his bed," George said.

"Do you think you'll have to share a bed? Ouch!" Fred asked thoughtfully. Hermione had elbowed him forcefully.

"Blimey," Fred said weakly.

"Oh, stop it, you two!" Ginny reprimanded them.

"By the way, what's going on between you and Dean Thomas?" George asked her innocently.

"Wouldn't you like to know," she said loftily, raising her eyebrows. The banter made Harry feel more cheerful, and the wriggling feeling in his stomach subsided somewhat – until Mrs Weasley returned, accompanied by her husband, Remus and Tonks. Everyone stood up.

"It's time," Mr Weasley said, holding out the Portkey – a pair of scissors. Harry approached it, gripped one handle and closed his eyes.

---

Dumbledore's office looked much the same, except that there was a podium in the middle of the room. A witch, whom Harry recognised as Hestia Jones, was seated next to Dumbledore – she was acting as the officiant for the ceremony. She nodded and smiled at him. Severus Snape, dressed in the same silvery robes Harry was wearing, was standing behind the podium. His eyes swept the group of Weasleys impassively, and his lip curled slightly when he spotted Remus and Tonks.

"Harry, my dear boy," Dumbledore said affectionately, rising from his chair. He greeted the others, and Mrs Weasley turned her head and gave Severus a long stern look which seemed to say, Treat Harry well!

"Potter," Severus said curtly, "you had better stand over here for the ceremony."

"You're going to marry him and you're calling him 'Potter'?" Ron said very loudly.

Severus narrowed his eyes dangerously.

"Gentlemen, please," Hestia Jones said. Ron, however, moved forwards and continued glaring at Severus.

"If you hurt Harry, then I'll make you pay," he declared, his hands on his hips.

"Ronald Weasley, this is a wedding ceremony, and if you do not stick to your best behaviour, then you are just going to have to leave!" Mrs Weasley snapped. Mr Weasley looked embarrassed. Ron gave Severus one last glare before stepping back next to Hermione, who placed a calming hand on his arm. Harry tried to feign deafness by looking interestedly at the portraits of the former Headmistresses and Headmasters of Hogwarts. This didn't help much, especially because Phineas Black was staring down at him and snickering appreciatively. Another wizard was following the scene through a pair of opera glasses.

"Finished exchanging the niceties, Ronniekins?" George whispered to Ron.

"Sharrup," Ron hissed. Ginny grinned.

Dumbledore returned to his desk. Fawkes the phoenix was eating sweet corn, raising his head from time to time to look at the people in Dumbledore's office. Dumbledore spread his arms.

"Let the ceremony begin," he announced. The guests took their seats, and Harry, much to his consternation, was instructed by Hestia to hold Severus's hand. He obeyed and felt the Potions Master's long fingers close over his hand. Severus, for his part, found himself thinking that Harry's hand was smaller than his – smaller, and warmer, in spite of the youth's obvious nervousness.

The ceremony was very brief, interrupted only by the exchange of the wedding rings – beautiful white gold bands containing pearls, a green one for Harry and a black one for Severus. They had been ordered by Dumbledore, and both bridegrooms had to admit that the Headmaster had impeccable taste. The ceremony was followed by a small aperitif. Severus scrupulously ignored his new husband, who was nibbling at some of the snacks. Finally, the event was over; Harry was given hugs, kisses and whispers of encouragement (plus distinctly dirty jokes from the Weasley twins), and Mrs Weasley actually hugged Severus. The Potions Master looked rather horrified but submitted to the gesture. Good-natured Remus Lupin shook Severus's hand, pretending not to notice the sneer on the other's face as he did so. Finally, only Dumbledore, Harry and Severus were left. The old wizard gazed at them for a moment or two, then drew both of them into a fatherly embrace.

"I wish both of you joy – in spite of what you may think and expect," he said. Severus drew back quickly, his mouth a thin line while Dumbledore released Harry slowly. Harry turned, his eyes meeting his husband's hard stare.

"Come," Severus said curtly. Harry stepped up to him, and they left Dumbledore's office.

---


	6. Chapter 5

**CHAPTER 5**

**A/N: A very happy New Year to all of you!**

---**  
**

_I was to spend the remaining holidays with you in the dungeons after the wedding ceremony. I was rather tense about that, of course. I felt that I was encroaching on your privacy, and no doubt I was. You had lived in the dungeons right from the time you had been appointed the Potions Master at Hogwarts School. You were used to having a territorial view of things. I had been high up in Gryffindor Tower, high up in the sky during the past six years. I realised that there would be no windows in the dungeons. I assumed that your quarters would be like your office and classroom – gloomy and uninviting. We assumed many things about each other back then, didn't we?_

---

The descent to the dungeons was one of the most uncomfortable trips Harry had ever experienced. The silence and resentment between Severus and him could have been slashed with an axe, and the paintings were murmuring, their subjects following Harry with sympathy in their eyes and gestures. Severus's jaw tautened as he swept down the stairs to the dungeons. He would have to show Harry around. He considered adding threats along the lines of, "Do not set foot in my laboratory! Stay away from my bedroom! Don't you dare touch my books! These are all _my_ possessions!" Obviously, this would not be a very auspicious start for their marriage.

They arrived at his rooms. The door was guarded by a portrait of Morgana, King Arthur's half-sister. While many Muggles, especially men, mostly regarded her as an evil sorceress and a source of threat, as they (still) regarded the majority of powerful wise women, Morgana was well loved in the wizarding world. The painting depicted her as a stern-faced and keen-eyed woman dressed in plain dark-grey robes, a mane of dark curls falling down to her waist. She looked at Harry.

"Welcome, Harry Potter," she greeted him, inclining her head slightly; then she addressed Severus:

"Password?"

"_Dies Irae," _Severus said, "remember the password, Potter."

The door swung back.

"It is wizarding tradition that the younger partner of the married couple enters the house or room first. Also, kindly remove your shoes." Severus said crisply. Harry tried not to blink. He did not consider the Potions Master a stickler to marriage traditions, of all things. Sensing that Severus was making a concession by allowing Harry to access his quarters before him, he gave his husband a small smile and a nod of thanks. Severus did not acknowledge the gesture, merely opening the door a little wider – an obvious hint that Harry was to get moving. Harry bent, took off his shoes and placed them on the shoe tray just inside the room before entering. He looked around. It was comfortably furnished with modern wooden furniture and had small illuminated spheres floating below the ceiling – the wizarding equivalent of Muggle lamps. Harry, used to cleaning and dusting thanks to Aunt Petunia, found himself automatically checking whether the place was clean and dust-free – which it thankfully was. Severus opened a side-door.

"Your quarters – bathroom and bedroom," he said succinctly. Harry approached his new home.

The bedroom was enormous, and Severus saw Harry gaze around with the air of someone who has never had such a lot of space before. He knew from Harry's memories and Dumbledore's accounts that Harry had grown up in a cupboard underneath the stairs and had been moved into his cousin's spare bedroom with the utmost reluctance on his relatives' part. Probably gross exaggeration and an attention-seeking manoeuvre, Severus sneered to himself silently as he continued the tour.

"My laboratory – I do not deem it advisable or useful for you to explore this room unless there is an emergency. The library, if you are interested in cultivating your mind and reading habits."

Harry looked intently at everything with his large green eyes. Severus could see that the youth was genuinely interested in his new surroundings. His new...home.

Severus was brave and selfless when it came to spying for Dumbledoredore and saving Harry's life, but he was not used to sharing at all. He had never had anyone to share things with. He was selfish, and the fact that his quarters were now Harry's rooms as well did not appeal to him one little bit.

"So. You have seen your new residence. You may want to start unpacking your trunk – that devoted house-elf of yours has brought your things down," Severus said stiffly and walked out of the hall, heading for the library and leaving his husband standing alone and awkwardly next to a large sofa. Harry shrugged slightly and went to his bedroom. He was sorry to see that Dobby had already left.

The youth unpacked quietly and quickly, without unnecessary racket and fuss. Severus, on his way to a bookshelf in the hall, stopped and watched him for a minute or two _en cachette_. He noted that most of the Muggle clothes Harry extracted were overlarge and worn. He turned away from the door abruptly, striding into the library. It was disconcerting to pick out the parallels in his and Harry's early lives. Severus did not want to have anything in common with Harry – it was so much easier to be able to hate him. Sharing his rooms with Harry was difficult enough for him, and sharing certain aspects of his life with Harry was even more difficult. Sharing, after all, was something Severus was not used to. He glowered around the hall, wondering how he was going to survive with the Potter spawn in his immediate environment. It was an insult – a Potter, of all vermin, in _his_ dungeons! Severus cracked his knuckles and flexed his fingers, grinding his teeth. His stomach roiled when he remembered the impending consummation. He would have to fuck that wretched shrimp. Well, if he was going to have to fuck, then at least he wanted a fuck worth his time. And money. With a snarl, Severus seized his cloak and strode into Harry's bedroom without knocking.

"I am going out," he barked, resenting the fact that, as a...dutiful...husband, he had to tell his...spouse...about his whereabouts. Louse, he mused, rhymed perfectly with "spouse". That was what Harry was. A louse. A nasty little parasite.

Harry merely nodded, his face polite, a set of black wizarding robes draped over his arm. Severus whisked away, left the castle and glided over the Hogwarts grounds until he left the wards. He Apparated to a particularly shady area of Muggle London and went to what he called an emergency haunt – a brothel. He could not risk showing his face in wizarding areas for obvious reasons. Angry, sullen and frustrated, he accessed the building, desperate to forget himself and his spouse-louse inside the body of another man.

The coupling was as routine as a business transaction, its sordidness and humiliation underlined by the exchange of money in advance, but it was the only outlet for a rancorous spy whose basic instincts were practically dormant, flaring up feebly every now and then.

When he returned to Hogwarts after an hour, he slammed the door of his quarters with such a bang that Harry, who was reading in his room, jumped. There was a pause, then Severus appeared in the doorway, giving Harry a dull, dead stare.

"Have you had dinner?" he snapped.

Harry nodded – he used Hagrid's flute to call Dobby, playing a note for each letter of Dobby's name, resulting in a kind of scale signal.

"Good. The more you stay out of my way, the better for you and me both," was the acid comment. The foul-tempered man left and Harry closed his book, removed his spectacles and rubbed his eyes.

There were no windows in his room. The doors were closed everywhere in the dungeons. In his life.

---


	7. Chapter 6

**CHAPTER 6**

_The premises for an argument were practically prearranged. Our first argument was worse than all our previous quarrels put together. I still think I made good use of that bottle of ink._

---

Severus was sitting in his bedroom, staring at the wall. He had cheated on his husband right after they had got married as a way of affirming, to himself, that whatever remained of his life and private space was his own and that he was not going to share it with Harry. Ever. He had been thrust into this wretched union with someone he loathed; and he had rebelled, needing to prove to himself that a piece of parchment and Harry were not going to steal whatever lingering freedom he still possessed. He tried to imagine himself consummating the marriage with Harry. He shuddered and grimaced as if he had been force-fed a hundred lemons – or even worse, a hundred lemon drops, originating from a certain infamous bowl squatting in the office of a certain infamous Headmaster. Severus felt betrayed by Dumbledore. Dumbledore had made his plans, arranged a marriage between two extremely unsuitable candidates on the spot and had managed to extort an agreement from both Severus and Harry.

Harry, in the meantime, was miserable, wondering how he could approach the Potions Master and somehow get them to a level where civil conversation was possible. Contrary to his husband, Harry was determined to make an effort and try to improve their relationship – against the odds. In any case, he had one question to ask: how could he enter their rooms if he could not pronounce the password? Could he at least write it on a piece of parchment, or make a sign with his hands or something? Harry got up and went to the hall, waiting patiently for Severus to leave his bedroom.

Ten minutes later, Severus marched into the hall, his lip curling as he spotted Harry sitting on what he considered his, Severus's, sofa. Harry looked at him and made a gesture with his quill and parchment, indicating that he had a question to ask.

"What do you want?" Severus asked haughtily, staring down his hooked nose at Harry. Harry's face tensed, but he controlled his temper and wrote down his question concerning the password.

"Write it down in front of the portrait and incinerate the parchment afterwards – oh dear, oh dear! Why, I forgot! We can only do _basic_ voiceless magic, can't we, now?" Severus said in a mocking coo. Fire magic, i.e. advanced non-verbal spells involving fire, was only taught in the students' seventh year.

Harry's eyes narrowed and he compressed his lips, his nails digging into the parchment.

"Tear it up and fling the pieces into the fire instead," Severus drawled.

Harry tore up the parchment and flung it into the fire, deliberately misunderstanding Severus's sentence. He could not use his voice to stand up to Severus; actions would have to suffice. Severus raised an eyebrow.

"Not _that _parchment, Potter. Also, kindly refrain from messing up my – the hall floor." He could not bring himself to say "our". Harry glared at him and wrote his next message on the parchment, thrusting it at Severus:

_Do not use that tone with me. _

"You breached the Pensieve and snooped about in my memories, you ungrateful little spy!" Severus hissed, ripping the parchment to bits.

Harry flushed furiously and scribbled on the parchment, his quill puncturing it several times.

_Excuse me – who is the spy in this room?_

Severus's thin cheeks became ominously flushed. The parchment joined the shreds already surrounding his feet, the pieces drifting earthwards mournfully.

"I have saved your stupid life more than once thanks to my role as a spy!" he spat.

_I used to believe that you were saving my_ stupid _life in order to keep me alive for Voldemort until the end of my sixth year. I've changed my mind, but you never took pains to make me trust you, Snape! You owe me just as much of an apology for your behaviour as I owe you one for breaching the Pensieve!_

More shreds of parchment rained upon the floor as Severus tore Harry's note to pieces.

"I. Owe. You. NOTHING!" he roared, throwing his self-control to the winds. His hatred threatened to choke him. He wanted to hurt Harry – hurt him as much as he could.

"I am leaving," he hissed, "and you are going to stay in your rooms, out of my sight!"

_Where are you going?_

This time, Severus incinerated the note.

"To get away from you and enjoy myself at a place which does not target minors."

_I am of age, you know,_ Harry scribbled angrily.

Severus sneered.

"In the wizarding world. Not in the Muggle world."

Suspicion flared up in Harry's eyes.

_What kind of place are you talking about?_

"Do you think I am even remotely interested in a little brat like you? Every reasonably well-stocked brothel has far better men on display, and I mean _men_, _real_ men, not skinny little scarecrows like you, Potter. I went to purchase myself an hour of pleasure today, on our blessed wedding day, my dearest spouse. You cannot imagine how much I enjoyed myself. You have nothing, nothing at all to offer...least of all pleasure," Severus said, gloating as he saw the expression on Harry's face. At least, he tried to gloat. The mixed rage and anguish in Harry's eyes and the momentary quiver of his lips raised an odd spike of pain in his chest. Harry clenched his fingers around the quill, trying to keep his hand steady. He found it very difficult to move the quill, to spell out each letter. He stopped after three letters. The quill snapped. Harry tore up the parchment slowly, his green eyes drilling into Severus's black eyes. They stared at each other. Then, with a sudden movement, Harry picked up the bottle of ink on the table and hurled its contents into Severus's face before flinging the bottle itself at Severus. It colided painfully with his scalp and smashed on the tiles. Severus, who had raised his hands too late to shield his face, was spluttering with surprise and anger. Harry pulled off his wedding ring and threw that as well. It hit Severus's head. Then Harry turned and walked out of their rooms, his face very pale, a huge lump in his throat. He did not know where to go, he simply wanted to get away from the dungeons, from Severus, and be left alone; he felt deeply ashamed and hurt that Severus preferred going to a brothel to making an effort to approach Harry or reciprocate Harry's effort at building a relationship between them. His nose prickled and stung as the tears gathered in his eyes. He forced them down. There was a salty taste at the back of his throat.

---

Severus swiped aggressively at his ink-streaked face and hair. There was a tender spot on his scalp after being hit by the bottle of ink. The ring and shredded parchments lay mournfully at his feet. He had got what he wanted. The expression of shock, disgust and hurt on Harry's face. Harry's reaction. And was that what he had really wanted? Severus's knees felt rubbery. He had to sit down. He installed himself on the sofa, leaning forwards, his hands dangling in front of his knees as he brooded over what had just happened. He got up after a while and Banished the shreds and ashes of parchment to the wastepaper bin. He picked up Harry's ring and flung it roughly onto his desk. Then he sat down again.

---

After visiting Hedwig in Owlery, Harry made his way back to the dungeons. His flaming anger had given way to wintry contempt for the man who had deceived him on their wedding day. When he reached the door to his new Hogwarts residence, he realised that he had forgotten his quill and parchment in the hall; but Harry had never been one to give up lightly; he had his wand with him, and he drew it out, using it to draw glowing letters in the air, spelling out the password.

"Well done," Morgana said approvingly.

The portrait swung back. Harry stepped inside. He threw a frosty look of disgust at Severus, who was sitting on the sofa, and stalked past him into the library. Severus frowned, wondering if Morgana had become part of the Potter fan club and had actually possessed the audacity and foolishness to simply let Harry enter without giving her the password – which he obviously could not. Severus stalked up to the painting. Morgana surveyed him austerely.

"How did Potter manage to enter without the password?" Severus asked arrogantly.

Morgana smiled thinly and told him how.

Severus flushed.

"Passwords are meant to be spoken! Pronounced! Uttered!"

"There are other ways to express words," Morgana informed him tranquilly.

"They are supposed to involve the vocal cords!"

"Not to my knowledge, and, like all guardian portraits, I am perfectly familiar with the rules of this castle," Morgana said, "Harry Potter has shown determination and creativity."

Severus raised his hand to stroke back his hair. Part of it was matted with ink. There were dark smears on his hand. He thought he detected a spark of humour in Morgana's eyes. He returned to his rooms, swearing softly, and shut himself up in the laboratory like a sulking child.

The next days passed in icy silence. Harry refused to take Telepathy lessons, putting a note on Severus's desk stating his wish. Severus said and did nothing. He knew that trust was vital for the domain of mental magic and for their marriage, and it was something which was utterly absent.

---


	8. Chapter 7

**CHAPTER 7**

A/N: Sorry that this is such a short chapter...I'm busy as a berserk bee...°gasps for breath° ;-D

_Needless to say, Dumbledore was rather desperate with us._..  
-

Harry was on his way to Dumbledore's office. Two weeks had passed since the commencement of his marital, or rather martial, union. Severus avoided and ignored Harry, and Harry ignored him right back but refused to stick about in his room; after all, Severus's quarters were his as well, and he was not going to lie low meekly, especially after Severus's obnoxious behaviour. He used the library to finish the homework which had been assigned to the students before the holidays. Whenever Severus spotted him among the books, he would, with exaggerated care, take a detour and seek the furthest corner of the room, Summoning the book he required with a spell instead.

On reaching the Headmaster's office, Harry was received with a warm greeting and the offer to help himself to a lemon drop. Harry refused politely, drawing out his parchment and quill for the impending conversation.

"How are you, Harry?" Dumbledore asked him after looking closely at his face.

Harry shrugged.

_Okay,_ he scribbled.

"How are your Telepathy lessons going?" Dumbledore inquired next. Harry chewed at his bottom lip, then wrote down the truth. Dumbledore looked very stern.

"Severus is not giving you lessons?"

_I don't want to take them after the way he treated me._

"What happened, Harry?"

Harry's quill hovered hesitantly above the page. It was very personal and very hurtful, after all.

"Harry," Dumbledore prompted gently.

_We quarrelled._

"I see," Dumbledore said matter-of-factly. "What about?"

Harry flushed and stared down at his parchment, hating the way Dumbledore was pulling the story out of him, like a particularly stubborn bird pulling a worm out of the earth.

"Harry, please tell me openly," Dumbledore said, looking even more serious. The youth complied reluctantly and studied his hands while Dumbledore read his note.

"I see," he said in tired resigned voice, folding the note carefully. Harry recalled that Severus always tore up or incinerated his notes.

"I will talk to Severus," he said, and Harry could hear a steely note in his voice.

_About the Telepathy lessons? They have got priority over any personal feelings, don't they? _Harry wrote, nearly thrusting the note at Dumbledore, who stared at it and looked at Harry sadly.

"My boy..."

Harry glared at him.

_Rape rhymes so nicely with Snape, doesn't it?_

And with that last missive, Harry rose and stamped out of Dumbledore's office.

Dumbledore didn't prevent him. He sat at his desk with his head bowed, and a lone tear dripped down into his beard.

Albus Dumbledore was furious. Severus could not remember seeing the Headmaster so angry.

"I am ashamed of you, Severus Tobias Snape," he said in a tone which chilled Severus's already frosty heart. The Potions Master did not dare to say anything; he knew that he deserved every word which Dumbledore had said and was going to say. He seemed to be immersed in a sea of liquid nitrogen.

"Harry did not even want to tell me at first. I had to coax it out of him, before you accuse him of being a complainer," Dumbledore continued, his voice quiet and glacial. He turned his back on Severus for a few moments. Severus bit his lip and stared at the floor. Dumbledore turned back towards him.

"Severus, you have done a very disgusting thing. You have gone out of your way to treat Harry shabbily and viciously; you have behaved immaturely, bitterly and resentfully."

Severus continued staring at the floor.

"Well, Severus? What have you to say?" Dumbledore asked.

"That YOU are entire to blame, Albus! You forced us into this wretched union. That ungrateful duffer deserves-"

"ENOUGH, SEVERUS!" Dumbledore shouted. The walls and floor of the office vibrated. Some of the odd silver instruments slid off the desk and shattered on the floor. Severus stumbled slightly.

"Harry is very kind and very forgiving, Severus, and I am sad that you refuse to appreciate Harry as the engaging young man he has become. You will stop this abuse at once-"

"ABUSE!" Severus roared, livid.

"Yes, abuse, Severus. Abuse has been a large part of your life. You have received it and have been lavish with distributing it. Harry, too, has been abused, but-"

"Oh. Of course. Potter the martyr, Potter the saint. And what am I? Satan Severus?"

Dumbledore stared at him.

"Don't be ridiculous, Severus. You have no faith in yourself and therefore none in others. Have faith, Severus! Try and trust Harry. You know the power Harry possesses and Voldemort does not."

"Love!" Severus snorted, "Such a thing does not exist!"

"What about the blood protection Lily gave her son when she died for him, Severus?"

Severus's face was working.

"Pure protective instinct to guarantee the survival of the offspring!" he snarled. Dumbledore shook his head gently.

"Alas, Severus. You know that not everything is pure instinct, as you call it."

"Is there anything else you wish to discuss with me?" Severus asked pointedly.

"Go," Dumbledore finally sighed after a few seconds of strained silence, "this is a pointless conversation. You know that I cannot give Harry Telepathy lessons – it is too dangerous, but you and Harry are linked to Voldemort through your scars...it would have helped matters. I will search around and arrange for someone else to tutor Harry-"

"Oh, for Merlin's sake, I'll do it!" Severus snapped, fuming.

Dumbledore gave him a level stare.

"You may want to apologise to Harry beforehand."

"I suppose it is a necessary step if I am to deflower Potter," Severus said coarsely.

"I trust you enough to hope that you will not hurt him when it is time," Dumbledore said softly.

"Stop beating about the bush, Albus, and say it clearly. You hope that I will not rape him. Don't worry. Potter's rectal sanctity is safe with me."

"You disgust me, Severus."

"Really? Well, that is news to me," Severus scoffed.

Dumbledore passed a tired hand over his eyes.

"Go, Severus. Just...go. Leave."

Severus left the office with a festering feeling in the pit of his stomach. It was a feeling he loathed. It was the feeling of guilt.


	9. Chapter 8

**CHAPTER 8**

_I wanted to know what was going on in your mind. At the same time, I was afraid of knowing. We were rather desperate with each other and with ourselves._..  
---

Outside in the Hogwarts grounds, watching a Thestral wing its way back towards the Forbidden Forest, Severus Snape was pacing up and down in deep thought, his face frown-furrowed and sullen.

Severus realised that he hated Harry because Harry was not the spoilt shallow brat Severus so desperately wanted to see in him; he always thought of Sirius Black and James Potter when he looked at Harry and projected his hate for them onto Harry; but basically, he hardly knew Harry. Was he jealous of Harry? Severus brooded over that question. Yes, he admitted that he was jealous of Harry. Harry was innocent, kind, smart (when he was willing to make the effort) and very brave. He had also grown into a handsome young man. It was easy to like him...and it was more than difficult to like Severus. Severus knew that it was his own fault; he went great lengths to make himself disliked. He followed the eye-for-an-eye principle, and cheating on Harry had been part of getting back at the youth for sneaking into the Pensieve and viewing his, Severus's, worst memory. Severus watched two Red Admiral butterflies flutter about in the sunlight. He turned away, his mood souring at their frolicsome behaviour. His mind flitted back to his husband and the impending consummation.

Severus was used to fucking his sexual partners from behind, often keeping a hand on their necks to pin them securely to the mattress. He didn't want to look into his partner's eyes; as a Legilimens, he knew how intense a gaze could be. How intimate. How eloquent. A gaze was capable of talking. In the case of sex, he preferred to let his cock do the talking. Eye contact was too uncomfortable for him. Severus sat down on a bench. He could not imagine taking Harry like a piece of meat. His body agreed as a vague sensation of nausea swept over him. He could see Harry twisting away from him – or, seeing that Harry was such stoic, simply clenching his jaw and submitting to the whole ordeal, waiting disgustedly until Severus was finished with him. "I cannot," Severus whispered to himself, "I cannot..."

The bottom line was that he was at a complete loss with this situation. Severus Snape did not know what it was like to be kind. He considered kindness a weakness – a maudlin sentiment.

It was a sour-grapes phenomenon: he had not received kindness, therefore he looked down on it with scorn; and when he did receive it, he did not know how to appreciate it; he interpreted it as pity or even condescension. Harry had called him pathetic in his second year – and the worst thing was that he was right, Severus concluded bitterly. The butterflies re-emerged in his field of view, fluttering towards the Great Lake. Severus rubbed fiddled with the hem of his sleeve. It would take so little to make Harry happy, a dusty part of his mind spoke to him faintly, he is not selfish and egocentric like you. Severus rubbed his temples, as if trying to massage this alien thought away into oblivion. He rose from the bench and went back to the castle. September was not far away, and he had to prepare his class material for the brats which would soon invade the school. A flying entity which was definitely not a bird appeared on the periphery of his vision. Severus looked up; Harry was on his broom, high up in the sky, carefree as the butterflies which had fluttered past Severus – or perhaps not so carefree? Severus narrowed his eyes. Harry was flying in a slow solemn circle, bent low over the handle of the Firebolt; there was something almost ritualistic about it. Then Harry seemed to spot him watching from the ground, and he turned his broom towards the Great Lake.

---

Severus had a frankly unpleasant night – it was not surprising after his quarrel with Dumbledore. It was like he had quarrelled with his father. He was visited by a nightmare in which he saw Harry lying on his, Severus's, bed, staring at him lifelessly. He was naked.

"It is time," Severus said to him. Harry averted his face. His legs fell open quiescently. Too quiescently. One arm lay limply next to his side, the other dangled over the side of the bed like something dead. Severus climbed on the bed and pushed Harry's thighs further apart, meeting with no resistance at all. Harry closed his eyes, his arm still dangling over the side of the bed. Severus thrust into him. Harry did not move. Severus withdrew, and a gush of blood poured out Harry's rectum, flooding the bed, splashing over Severus's chest, face and hair. Harry opened his eyes, staring at him glassily. His eyes were scarlet, as if the blood had leaked into them. Voldemort's eyes. Severus began to scream.

A glass of water shattered as Severus's flailing hand struck it, knocking it from his bedside table. The Potions Master sat up abruptly and turned on the lights, rubbing his arms for warmth. He brooded over the dream and grimaced. He could lock up his fears when he was awake, but at night, with his mind at the mercy of sleep and his subconscious, he was exposed to all the things which secretly nagged at him. He turned his head and saw the glass on the tiles, shattered to pieces. He reached for his wand, repaired the glass and got rid of the spilt water. He refilled the glass and drank thirstily, trying to rinse away the foul aftertaste of the dream. It was three o'clock in the morning. Severus dressed and sought the adjoining library with feline silence. Sitting among the bookshelves, he pondered the raw violence and brutality of what he had done to Harry in his dream and whether a breach of trust could be likened to rape. No matter how much they both struggled against their marriage – they would have to consummate the bond, and Severus realised that he was actually terrified about the whole thing. How could Harry possible welcome _him_ into his body, in one of the most intimate forms of interactions? Yes, Harry would take it stoically. Take his cock stoically, to be precise. Pleasure was at the bottom of the list; it was all political, geared towards Voldemort's downfall. Harry would be nervous when the time to consummate their wedding arrived. He would _want_ tenderness, kindness, trust and all that clichéd trash...and he would know only too well not to _expect_ these things from Severus, of all people. And what if he gave Harry the tenderness that he, Severus, so desperately coveted and had craved all his life? Was he capable of such a thing? Harry was his husband now. They lived together. They shared the same rooms and more things in common than Severus was comfortable with; and when they consummated their marriage, they would share a bed. Why only penetrative sex, initiated and performed by the older party in gay relationships, was regarded as the sole valid sexual consummation practice in the eyes of the Ministry, was an enigma to Severus. In his opinion, sex was a vast limitless domain, and the Ministry was as narrow-minded as a cell in Azkaban. In fact, it was an insult. Severus brushed his long hair out of his eyes with his hand and suddenly laughed softly. He had not failed to wash his hair with shampoo every day since he had married Harry. He had washed his hair only twice a week with nothing more than water in the past. If he did not care one little bit about Harry, then why was he maintaining this new practise of paying more attention to his personal cleanliness and appearance? Was he actually nervous around his young spouse? Severus slammed one hand over his head, as if trying to stifle his thoughts with the gesture. The fact was that Severus was not at all immune to that low sweet call of Harry's awaking manhood and sexuality. He could not prevent himself from recognising the sensual man in Harry or stop his nerves from picking up those beckoning signals; and it was so like Harry to be utterly unaware of the signals he was sending out. For now, the vast majority of the signals between them were discordant. Severus was not used to apologising sincerely for anything. He was, however, going to have to apologise to Harry. Convincingly.

---


	10. Chapter 9

**CHAPTER 9**

_When you apologised to me, I was quite sure that Professor Dumbledore had given you too many lemon drops. Drugged lemon drops._

---

Harry was sitting dully in his room, brooding over particularly unpleasant ideas. Severus had saved his life on several occasions. Harry owed him a huge wizard's debt. Maybe that was why Dumbledore had shoved them into this marriage. Severus had saved his life; why should he not possess it and do with it what he liked? Who knew what kind of twisted logic Dumbledore followed? Most probably this whole travesty of a marriage was an unspoken quid-pro-quo arrangement between Severus and Dumbledore. Harry kicked the leg of his desk. He was being trained like a good little soldier to defeat Voldemort. And afterwards? He would probably be dropped like a hot potato. People wanted him to save their skins, not his own; and for now, he had to pay off his wizard's debt to Severus – if such a thing was possible. Harry didn't think it was. He shook his head, telling himself that his reasoning was immature, even petulant; another voice said that it was perfectly realistic, matter-of-fact thinking. He missed Hermione and Ron. A knock on his door made him look up. He actually opened his mouth to say, "Come in," then closed it. He was still in the middle of getting used to not being able to talk, although he didn't think that such a process actually had a middle section in the first place. He got up and opened the door. Severus was standing on the threshold, looking tense.

Harry stepped back, and Severus walked stiffly into his room.

"May I?" he asked with forced politeness, gesturing at an empty chair. Harry nodded and sat down himself. Severus flexed his long tapering fingers, fixating Harry with what Hermione liked to describe as an eldritch stare.

"Harry," he said finally. The youth blinked at Severus's use of his first name. Severus ignored Harry's reaction and continued resolutely.

"I...apologise," he said stiffly, "I have..." He paused, angry at himself for talking so hesitantly and insecurely – he, who was feared for his the flow of sarcastic words which escaped his unmerciful lips. Harry was looking at him, his face impassive.

"I admit that I have...misjudged you."

A small frown appeared between Harry's eyebrows. Severus could see that the youth did not believe one word of his apology.

"I also admit that my conduct towards you has been...inauspicious."

There was another pause, during which Harry continued looking at him fixedly, as if trying to interpret his facial expressions more than his words. A strand of jetty hair slipped forward and fell into his right eye. He stroked it back.

"I am sincere, Po-Harry," Severus added. "I..." He decided to drop his formal tone. Harry was his husband, after all.

"My behaviour was shabby."

Harry's expression was difficult to interpret: it combined surprise and caution, suspicion and hope; and Severus could not help thinking, much to his horror, that Harry looked rather charming that way. He was already regretting his apology when Harry reached for his parchment and quill and scribbled. He handed the note to Severus.

_I apologise about the Pensieve._

Severus put down the note. Harry observed that he did not destroy it. Severus acknowledged Harry's apology with a stiff nod. There was another pause; then Harry stretched out his hand. Severus took it. Harry's fingers were warm and firm against his, like on their wedding day.

Severus released Harry's hand and reached into his pocket.

"Your ring," he said, handing the white-gold band with its green pearl to Harry. Harry took it and slid it over his left ring finger. They looked at each other cautiously. The atmosphere in the room was absurdly awkward.

"So," Severus said, obviously relieved that the unpleasant business of apologising had been done with, "you need to learn Telepathy before we both drown in a flood of your handwritten notes. You require Occlumentic and Legilimentic abilities – yes, Potter, Occlumency is of vital importance."

Harry was frowning at him, and Severus was strongly tempted to inform Harry that Telepathy was a rather complex branch of mental magic, especially for learners entering adulthood.

"I suggest, Potter-" Severus broke off and waited impatiently while Harry wrote down something on his parchment. He read it and answered loftily:

"Well, seeing that we are married and are due to exchange certain bodily fluids in less than three months, I suppose a first-name basis will have to do."

Harry gave him a terse nod.

"Telepathy lessons every second day, eight o'clock in the evening. This concerns your future; the curse is more than likely to be permanent, as you know."

Harry nodded again.

"Good. I want you to make an effort. A big effort," Severus said.

_If you make one, too, _Harry scribbled.

Severus sniffed haughtily.

"I just made one," he pointed out.

_So did I. I'm sure we can both make another one._

"I see no other solution," Severus said sourly. "I think that we can consider our current arrangements satisfactory."

Harry nodded and wrote another note, informing Severus that he was going to fly a few rounds around the Quidditch pitch. Severus read it and snorted.

"Can't do without swooping about on a broomstick like a demented swallow, can you?"

_Just because you don't appreciate the joys of flying on a broomstick..._

Severus scrunched up the parchment in his hand.

"Broomsticks are all you featherheaded adolescents think of."

Harry recalled rather glumly that broomsticks, figuratively speaking, would certainly be involved in less than three months. He shifted his feet uncomfortably and scratched his neck.

Severus drew himself up, glaring at his young husband.

"Mr Potter, you have a filthy mind!"

_So did you when you decided to take your...broomstick...elsewhere on our wedding day._

Severus went an unpleasant purplish colour.

"I apologised for this misstep," he hissed, "and I refuse to discuss this matter any further! It has been resolved."

Harry, tired of always arguing with Severus, shrugged. Severus rose abruptly.

"Telepathy lesson tomorrow evening in my...I mean, _the_ library," he stated and marched off. Harry glowered at his back.

---


	11. Chapter 10

**CHAPTER 10**

_My first Telepathy lesson. Sort of.  
_

---

Harry walked silently into the library, nervous about his very first Telepathy lesson. He had exchanged his Muggle clothes for his more formal and sober school robes, knowing that Severus would be mightily displeased if he showed up in jeans. He brushed back his fringe. He badly needed a haircut, and he would have to visit Hogsmeade to get one. Harry, much as he loved the castle and regarded it as his true home, was tired of being stuck to Hogwarts and its grounds for week after week; he longed for a change of scene, for other voices and faces, for a mug of Butterbeer. He felt like a potted plant stagnating in its corner, living a monotonous life in an environment not quite suited to its needs. The dungeons and his dour-tempered spouse did not do much to cheer him up, and he doubted the sincerity of Severus's apology.

"Sit. Please." Severus's voice was soft. Silky. Dangerous. The Potions Master was standing next to a shelf, one pale elegant hand caressing the spine of a book. Harry wondered for a moment what it would feel like if those long skilful fingers caressed the spine of a human being. Had he caressed the prostitute with whom he had slept on their wedding day? Harry, concerned that Severus might read his thoughts, dropped his eyes and folded his hands on the table before him. Severus sat down opposite him, his knee grazing Harry's underneath the desk top.

"So, Po-Harry. What do you know about Telepathy?" Using Harry's first name was something Severus was finding rather difficult to do, and the fact that he was answered by silence and scribbled notes was equally awkward. Harry extracted his writing utensils and proceeded to write down his reply. Severus took the piece of parchment and read it.

"I see that you have done some preliminary reading."

Harry nodded. There was not much else to do unless he wanted to lose his mind due to sheer boredom. Hermione would have been extremely pleased and Ron tremendously scandalised, he mused with an inward grin. As he shifted his hands, the large pearl of his wedding ring bumped against the table. Severus noticed. He himself had stopped wearing his ring; it got in the way and hampered his brewing activities – besides reminding him of his marital situation.

"The workmanship and appearance of the rings are admirable, but the design is not at all practical. I suggest that you take off your ring, Potter – Harry – as I have done. In fact, when we venture out in public and when the term starts again, it is imperative that the rings remain hidden from hostile eyes, as you know."

Harry obeyed, thinking that not even in the process of choosing rings had he and his husband had a choice.

"Which textbooks did you read?" Severus resumed, rising and pacing away from the table.

Harry wrote down the titles, adding that Hermione had helped him with the books. Severus did not say anything and handed the parchment back to Harry, who decided that it was safe to interpret Severus's lack of comment as a sign of satisfaction.

"As you have written," Severus continued, emphasising the last word ever so slightly, "Telepathy requires both Occlumentic and Legilimentic powers. Considering your performance, or your lack thereof, in the former discipline, I have little hope where your mastery of Legilimency and subsequently Telepathy is concerned."

Harry's eyes narrowed at the insult.

"I am merely stating a fact underlined by years of hard evidence," Severus with silky cruelty. Harry felt vulnerable and useless. So much for his husband making an effort. He wrote a few sentences on his parchment. Severus read them and sniffed contemptuously.

"Yes, yes, emotions help with the establishment of a Telepathic bond, Po-Harry. Provided you know how to keep them under control. Your emotions, however, are like rabid squirrels."

Harry frowned indignantly at Severus's unflattering compari_s_on.

"That is what I mean. You cannot control your emotions or school your face to form an expressionless mask. You are a typical Gryffindor, always wearing his noble heart on his sleeve," Severus observed scornfully.

_You have got no heart to wear on your sleeve in the first place,_ Harry wrote. Severus's eyes flashed; then he took a deep breath and continued, ignoring Harry's remark.

"I will not waste more time on hammering the basics of such a complex branch of magic into your stubborn mind, Potter. I suggest that we tackle the practical aspect without delay. We will begin with Legilimency and move on to Occlumency after a few lessons, regardless of whether you succeed or fail in the former discipline."

Harry tensed.

"You have been on the receiving end of Legilimency before – I trust that it was a unique and unforgettable experience for you," Severus stated. Harry shot him a frosty glare.

"I therefore think that a little reminder to, ah, jog your memory, will be useful."

Harry looked away from Severus's mocking eyes.

"Eye contact."

Harry continued looking away.

"Eye contact, Potter," Severus repeated, his voice tinged with dangerous softness.

_Only if you treat me with respect, _Harry wrote.

Severus snorted.

"I do not consider respect our main priority – it is certainly not mine." He approached Harry's desk and loomed over his husband, staring into his eyes. Harry immediately averted his face.

"You will look at me, Potter. The Headmaster has entrusted me with the hopeless task of teaching you, and I insist that you learn and stop behaving like a petulant childish brat."

Harry looked up reluctantly, his green eyes blazing.

Half an hour later, he left the library with soft knees and a roaring headache resulting from Severus's aggressive Legilimentic invasions and snide humiliating comments. He longed more than ever for a window in his room, for a view of the earth and the sky. Exhausted, he went to the bathroom and splashed cold water over his face. When he raised his head, his reflection stared back at him from the mirror; he had lost weight in the dungeons and resembled his scrawny self from the days he had had to spend with the Dursleys; but it was the unhappiness, the dull expression in his eyes which struck him the most as he stared at the glass. His friends were far away, Dumbledore seemed nothing more than a puppet master, and Severus, of course, took every opportunity to show his loathing towards his husband.

He will have to take me with force, Harry thought grimly to himself as he remembered the accursed consummation, and he has got Dumbledore's blessing to do it. He could still hear Severus's insults in his mind, and not just figuratively. He could actually hear them. Harry's heard jerked up abruptly.

_Impertinent brat...hopeless...Albus is completely insane...his eyes are different, like his mother's...my father used to call me a freak...he is seventeen, a man, not a boy..._

Alarmed, Harry inhaled sharply. He could actually hear little whispers in his mind, whispers in Severus's voice, and they were already fading away. He listened hard, but he could only hear his own pulse in his ears. He could not remember reading about such a phenomenon in the three books he had read on basic Telepathy. Harry sat down on the edge of the bathtub, completely confused, wondering if he was imagining things due to his tiredness. Definitely not another basilisk, he mused, trying to cheer himself up.

---


	12. Chapter 11

**CHAPTER 11**

_I was in a quandary. If I told you that I had heard bits of your thoughts, you would certainly get furious. If I didn't tell you and you found out during the next lesson, you would be furious as well. What made me decide to tell you was my guilt about the Pensieve incident in my fifth year. I didn't want to be...well...sneaky. Too Slytherin, you see..._

---

Severus frowned as he heard a soft but firm knock on his bedroom door. He strode over to the door and opened it briskly, his black eyes narrowing. He compressed his lips when he discovered his husband on the threshold, holding out a note. Severus closed the door behind him – there was no way he was going to let Harry into his bedroom – and read the note impatiently. A few moments later, he raised his head abruptly; his gaze travelled over Harry, from top to toe and from toe to top, finally connecting with Harry's observant green eyes. The youth looked puzzled at the expression on Severus's face and made a questioning gesture with his hands.

"What _exactly_ did you overhear?" Severus fairly snapped at him. Harry glared at him, making no attempt to use his quill and parchment, which he was holding in his right hand. Severus took a deep breath and repeated his question in a more polite tone. Harry shot him another frosty look and answered the question. Severus went disquietingly pale as he read the note; then his cheeks became stained with red. Harry was eyeing him cautiously, his body tense, as if to prepare for warding off a physical attack. Again Severus summed up the figure of his husband with a hawk-like stare; then he whirled around and stamped out of his quarters. Harry moistened his lips; he had the feeling that Severus had gone to pay Albus Dumbledore an unpleasant visit.

---

Fawkes the phoenix promptly and prudently dissolved into flames as the door to Dumbledore's office burst open to reveal a very angry Severus Snape, who was clutching two crumpled notes in one fist. Dumbledore looked up, mild concern on his face.

"What is wrong, Severus?" he asked.

"What is wrong! You knew! YOU KNEW!" He flung the papers onto the Headmaster's desk. Dumbledore raised his hand.

"Do not raise your voice, Severus, and kindly take a seat. Would you like a cup of tea? A piece of cake? Maybe a lemon drop?"

"Are you mocking me?" Severus snarled as Dumbledore read Harry's notes.

"When have I ever mocked you, child?"

"Do not call me 'child'!"

"You are a child in many ways, Severus."

Severus clenched his jaw. He did not say anything.

"Please tell me what happened. What am I supposed to know?" Dumbledore prompted.

Severus told him the story. Dumbledore rasped his beard pensively after Severus had fallen silent.

"So...Harry has a Telepathic link to you which you are blocking most assiduously – logical, given your skills in Occlumency and your dislike towards your husband."

"How come he did not mention this phenomenon when he was fifteen? How come it went unobserved? I would have noticed if he wasn't telling me, I would have found out-"

"Harry is an adult, Severus; he is seventeen; his magical powers have increased over the past two years. He has also matured, and it is my belief that he is trying to find a connection to you now that he is married to you instead of keeping you out of his life at all means. He wants to know you."

Severus stood up in a flurry of robes.

"I don't want to know him! I don't want to know James Potter's spawn in any way!"

Dumbledore sighed softly and shrugged.

"You are obsessed with the notion of continuing to hate James Potter through his son, Severus. I have discussed this many times with you. To no avail."

Severus sat down again, his shoulders sagging.

"So, Severus. The chances of Harry mastering Telepathy are very promising...or would be if you tried to get to know him. I am convinced that it will be worth the effort."

"Did you know that Potter...Harry...is in possession of this Telepathic link?"

Dumbledore smiled enigmatically in his bead.

"I...suspected."

Severus snorted.

"Did you, ah, also _suspect_ that he shares this link with only _me_?" Severus asked shrewdly.

"As I said...it was only a suspicion. I could have been absolutely wrong."

"Yes or no, Albus?" Severus said grimly.

"Yes, my boy. He has to learn how to communicate with others who do not possess the skills of mental magic as you do."

"Or as _you_ do," Severus observed scathingly, "which is one of the reasons why _you_ refuse to teach him mental magic. Do you think this...link has anything to do with Voldemort? With his scar and my mark? With our marriage bond?"

"Good questions, Severus, very good questions...Maybe the link is connected with one of them, two of them, all three of them, or none of them. All I can say is that Harry's defences must have been low after your first lesson, allowing him to unknowingly and unintentionally establish a link to your mind and glean some of your thoughts. And your mind was accessible for just those few moments because you had just practiced mental magic with a potentially powerful Telepath beforehand."

"Harry Potter? A man of hidden talents?" Severus said with a slight sneer.

Dumbledore rose.

"Regard what happened in whichever light you wish, Severus. I ask only that you train him and treat him carefully and respectfully. If I am not mistaken, he may prove to be a talented Telepath, combining Occlumency and Legilimency without having to completely shut out all emotion...as is the case with Occlumency."

"Those who wear their hearts on their sleeves are failures where Occlumency is concerned."

"Harry is a young _man_, Severus."

Severus stood up and gave Dumbledore a curt nod.

"I apologise for disturbing you and thank you for your time," he said impassively.

"I am sure you appreciate the fact that Harry came to you directly after witnessing a few of your thoughts, Severus. Honesty is crucial for a well-functioning relationship."

Severus looked as if someone had shoved a particularly sour lemon between his teeth.

"Yes, well, I see," he replied tonelessly.

"You do not – or simply do not want to, as with so many things. Good night, my boy," Dumbledore said. Behind him, a newborn baby Fawkes stretched his tiny wrinkled wings, blinking blearily in the soft light of the office. Severus marched out of Dumbledore's office, mulling over the events of the evening.

---


	13. Chapter 12

**CHAPTER 12**

_Something had happened which you had not expected to happen after that first lesson; your reactions, the way you looked and snapped at me, finally storming out of the dungeons...They spoke volumes to me. I was sure that you had gone to visit Dumbledore, but I was not sure whether I should be in sight when you returned or go back nicely and quietly to my room. In the end, I decided to wait for you; I felt that going back to my room would be like hiding. _

---

Severus uttered the password tersely in front of the drawing of Morgana, who watched him knowingly with a small smile. The Potions Master strode into his and Harry's rooms. He found his husband sitting on the sofa, reading a book on Telepathy.

"Miss Granger seems to have rubbed off on you – _I_ wouldn't dare take the credit," Severus addressed him in his usual condescending tone. Harry held out a note to him impassively. Severus read it and commented:

"I assume you used that Invisibility Cloak of yours to track me? Or that map? Maybe both?"

Harry gave him a cold look and wrote down his answer:

_Professor Dumbledore is the one you trust the most. When you need answers, you are sure to go to him._

"My, my, amazingly crisp reasoning for a Gryffindor," Severus said, his hand tightening as he started to crumple up the note; then he remembered Dumbledore's words about getting to know Harry. He was going to have to fuck him in another two months, if he wanted their marriage to remain one of the weapons against Voldemort. With an effort, he continued:

"The Headmaster suspects that you have...somehow or the other...forged a ridiculous one-sided Telepathic bond with me."

_Somehow or the other? And I doubt he said it was ridiculous._

Severus scuffed the note with his long fingers.

"He believes, to be more specific, that you are determined to...know me."

Severus did not want to think why he suddenly felt so embarrassed and vulnerable admitting this to Harry.

Green eyes met black ones with complete steadiness.

_Yes, I want to know you_. _You think you know me. You do not._

Severus averted his face abruptly and turned his back on Harry.

"I do not," he ground out. He nearly started when Harry gently took the note from him, his hand brushing Severus's, and wrote on it again.

_Because you do not want to. And you do not want me to know you, either. Severus, we _are _married._

Severus did not say anything. He thought of Lily Evans Potter. Strange to see his, Severus's, first name in Harry's handwriting. He had watched Harry – and, to his credit, watched _over_ him as well – for six years. And he did not know him.

"Po-...Harry," Severus said finally, deciding to be as honest with Harry as Harry had been with him when he had accidentally heard Severus's thoughts. Harry was looking at him gravely.  
"The Headmaster is not certain, but it is his opinion that you may turn out to be a natural Telepath."  
Harry looked completely incredulous.  
"My reaction was similar to the expression on your face," Severus observed, actually feeling a little amused. "There are several theories on your connection to me."  
Severus studied Harry penetratingly with his black eyes. The youth looked anxious.  
"Personally, I do not think that this is a further manifestation of the Dark Lord's unintentional transfer of powers to you. You were a Parseltongue from the very beginning, were you not? I seem to recall that you unleashed a boa constrictor on that shamefully obese cousin of yours before you even went to Hogwarts."  
Harry nodded. Severus rubbed the corner of his mouth with his index finger, and Harry could have sworn that Severus found the experience comical.  
"Considering that there was not a trace of Telepathic powers in your fifth year, even after the Dark Lord stole your blood, I tend to think that the answer lies in the fact that you are now an adult wizard...and in your Gryffindor stubbornness to prod and push your way into my life."  
A faint smile touched Harry's lips.  
"Potter...Harry...it is _not_ amusing. In other words, your magical maturity and our marriage seem to be the main reasons for your experience."  
Severus scrutinised Harry critically.  
"You do show an aptitude to resist the Imperius Curse. You loathe Occlumency, overemotional as you are. Legilimency, however..." A sharp twinge from the brand on his left forearm distracted him. He continued before Harry could notice anything unusual, trying not to sound doubtful:

"Teaching you Legilimency and then Occlumency might be a fruitful approach."  
Harry nodded again. Severus stared at him for a few seconds. He had always tried his best to regard whatever Harry had said as meaningless drivel, to compare Harry's voice with the irritating drone of a pesky mosquito. Harry's enforced silence, however, was unsettling, especially because the youth seemed to speak with his eyes, always watching Severus closely and unwaveringly – in fact, watching Severus with all the intensity of a Legilimens.

"Is your scar bothering you?" he asked Harry abruptly, wondering if Harry's scar, too, had prickled.

Harry shook his head.

"What about after our first lesson?"

He was answered with another shake of the messy-haired head.

"Good," Severus stated succinctly.

The days which followed, however, were not very good at all.

Severus began to experience constant pain from his Dark Mark – a nasty reminder from Voldemort, no doubt, to punish Severus for betraying the Death Eaters. Nothing could alleviate the burning sensation; the area around his forearm became hot, red and swollen. For a week, Severus bore the pain with complete composure; his vast healing knowledge and skills were powerless in such a case, and he would wake up at night moaning with pain. He was too proud to consult Madam Pomfrey or Dumbledore, and he didn't think even the latter could do anything. He treated Harry like air, not speaking to him and walking past him without looking at him. He cancelled their next lesson, slipping a curt note underneath Harry's bedroom door. Most surprisingly, it was Harry who freed him from his torture – or rather, Harry's touch.

---


	14. Chapter 13

**CHAPTER 13**

_Telepathy. Touch. You were not keen on Telepathy with me. And you were certainly not keen on...keeping in touch with me, in a manner of speaking. No, you weren't. Not at first, at least. _

---

Severus Snape was sitting in his armchair, reading, a bandage soaked in cold Murtlap essence wrapped around his aching forearm. It didn't help much, of course, but at least his arm did not feel so hot while he wore the bandage. His mood was terrible, and that was saying something, seeing that his habitual disposition was a decidedly dour one. Severus glanced at the wizarding clock on the wall and snapped the book closed. He was due for a staff meeting, and he gritted his teeth at the prospect of a twinkling perky Albus Dumbledore. He settled his robes and strode into the hall. He raised his hand to open the door, but it was not necessary; the door opened on its own, revealing Harry on the threshold, carrying his Firebolt. Severus gestured ironically, indicating that Harry should enter first. Harry gave him a cool nod of thanks and stepped inside – only to trip over Severus's vindictive foot. Harry dropped his broom and grabbed onto Severus's arm to keep his balance. The pain in Severus's left forearm suddenly decreased. The Potions Master, who was about to shake off Harry's hand and actually push him so that the youth would indeed lose his balance altogether, went still. Harry shot Severus a cold look, aware that Severus had tried to trip him up on purpose. He released Severus's arm quickly and turned to go. The pain flared back to life in Severus's forearm, and he suddenly grabbed Harry's shoulder, twisting him around, seizing his hand and fairly slapping it back onto his arm. Harry's green eyes widened with astonishment and confusion. He opened his mouth to speak, but only a sharp exhalation escaped his throat. Severus locked eyes with his husband. He approached his free hand to Harry's forehead.

"May I?" he asked in strangely soft voice. Harry, still staring at him incredulously, nodded. Severus brushed back Harry's fringe to expose the scar. It looked perfectly normal – just like a scar. He touched it. The Dark Mark remained calm. Harry's hair was soft and his skin smooth.

"I do not understand," Severus said slowly, now taking Harry's hand in his and staring at the palm, as if trying to find the answers in its little creases and folds. Harry gave him a questioning look.

"Kindly do _not_ let go of my arm, Po…I mean, Harry." The young man blinked. Severus guided them to the sofa and sat down. Both of them looked extremely awkward and uncomfortable.

"The Dark Lord has been punishing me for a week so far by infusing my Dark Mark with constant pain. Nothing can relieve me from this annoyance, which is one reason why I had to cancel your lesson." He sniffed disdainfully.

"Yet it seems that whenever you are in my immediate proximity...or, to be more precise, when you engage in tactile interaction with me, however distasteful this may sound…What is so hilarious?" Severus glowered irritably at Harry, whose lips had quirked up for a moment.

Harry shrugged. The Potions Master narrowed his eyes and continued:

"When you touch me, like now, the pain goes leaves instantaneously."

Harry wandlessly Summoned his quill and parchment. Severus's lips tightened as the writing utensils landed neatly in Harry's lap. Harry balanced his parchment on one knee and held his quill in his free hand, never letting go of Severus's arm.

_We had better tell Professor Dumbledore now._

Severus glared at him.

"There is nothing he can do about the pain. Unfortunately, it seems that only _you_ can."

_That is why we had better go to the Headmaster. If I don't touch you all the time, then the pain-_

Severus interrupted Harry by imprisoning the nib of the quill between his fingers.

"I know that, you sil-" He bit his lip as he prevented himself from calling Harry a rude name. Harry wriggled the quill free and underlined Dumbledore's name. Severus flexed his long fingers restlessly; then he stared into Harry's eyes again.

Harry could use this opportunity to avenge Severus's unjust treatment of him during the past years. He could walk out of the rooms, allowing the selfish, embittered, often cruel man to suffer. He could mock Severus, flinging into his face that he was simply getting his just deserts…but Harry was not doing anything of the sort. On the contrary.

"You are extraordinarily quick to forgive, aren't you?" Severus sneered. "You could shift away from me right now, you know, and enjoy the discomfort of your, ah, favourite person."

_I don't want to see you suffering. _

Severus laughed harshly.

"Oh, you have several and solid reasons to let me suffer, to...get back at me, Saint Potter."

_I am not a saint. I am not trying to humiliate you, if that is what you are thinking. Come, let's go to Dumbledore._

"What other choice do I have?" he snapped sourly as he read the untidy scribble. "But don't you dare think that you are indispensable, you presumptuous-" he stalled as he watched Harry's face. The youth was looking at him closely.

_Severus. I am not trying to take your dignity away. I want to help. I am your husband. We're in this together. _

"It is a farce of a marriage. We are spouses on paper."

_We share a Telepathic bond, and if you were not so keen on shutting me out, then it would be two-sided._

Severus sighed and rubbed his temples. The clear green eyes followed his movements. Severus averted his face.

"For Merlin's and Morgana's sake, Potter...Harry...! Stop gawking at me like a statue!"

_Sorry. Would blood magic help?_

Severus's head snapped around.

"What do you mean?"

_Would there be a way to use my blood to stop the pain?_

The Potions Master stared at the note, then at Harry, then back at the note.

"I hadn't thought of that," he admitted reluctantly. Harry reached for his quill and underlined Dumbledore's name again.

"Oh, all right!" Severus snapped, standing up. "You can let go of my arm, I am used to pain!"

Too used to pain, Harry thought with a pang as he looked at Severus's sullen face.

---

Dumbledore leant back in his chair.

"Even phoenix tears are powerless against such a curse, but your bond is not," he murmured, watching the two wizards sitting before him. Severus shifted his arm, and Harry stretched out his hand. Severus's jaw twitched, and he moved his chair away from Harry's, beyond the reach of the hand which could alleviate his pain. Dumbledore sighed.

"So stubborn, Severus…" he murmured sadly.

Severus's mouth was thin as the blade of a knife.

"Potter has suggested blood magic. Though far-fetched, the suggestion may not be that asinine."

"Why did you come to me only now, Severus? Why only after seven days?"

Severus was silent.

Dumbledore shook his head gently.

"Severus, Severus…" he murmured. "I suppose Harry had to convince you?"

Severus's nostrils quivered dangerously for a second. Dumbledore glanced at Harry, who nodded slightly, and the twinkle returned to his blue eyes.

"Excellent. Harry's suggestion makes a lot of sense, Severus. We know how crucial blood magic can be."

Harry thought of his mother's sacrifice. He also thought of Voldemort's rebirth and the theft of his blood.

Dumbledore rose and patted Fawkes. The phoenix was sleeping, his head underneath one wing. He stirred and clicked his beak as Dumbledore caressed him.

"Blood magic, however, is mostly used in the direst of circumstances. There is another way to sever your Dark Mark's connection to Voldemort. It is not through blood magic. Severus, Harry, forgive me for being direct verging on indiscreet: have you consummated your marriage?"

"No," Severus growled, and Harry shook his head at once.

"What about the Telepathy lessons?"

The two wizards repeated their negation.

"My dear boys…I am afraid that you will have to do so as soon as possible. Telepathy and consummation will establish powerful magical bonds."

Harry felt very cold all of a sudden. Severus's shoulders tensed.

"I am sure the latter can wait until the deadline," he pointed out.

Dumbledore nodded.

"It can, provided you are able to teach Harry the mastery of Telepathy as soon as possible, Severus."

There was a long silence. Harry stared at the floor. Severus was flexing his fingers again.

"A fine mess you have created for the two of us, Albus," the Potions Master commented acidly. Dumbledore merely smiled.

"I am glad that you are including Harry, Severus."

"Including him in what?"

"In the mess which, as you so correctly observed, I have created for you. 'The two of us' instead of 'me' and 'I'. I am pleased, my boy."

Severus did not deign to reply and turned to Harry.

"Let's go." His fingers closed around Harry's wrist – his arm calmed down most willingly – and he swept out of Dumbledore's office. When they arrived in the dungeons, Hedwig was waiting for Harry, letters from Hermione, Ron, Mrs Weasley and Remus Lupin next to her in a neat pile. A brilliant smile illuminated Harry's face, and Severus wished, for just the tiniest moment, that he himself could smile like that...or, even better, could be the recipient of such a smile. Harry extricated his wrist from Severus's grip to take the letters. A flash of jealousy sparked up in Severus's eyes.

How he wanted that smile, and how he hated himself for wanting it.

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	15. Chapter 14

**CHAPTER 14**

A/N: Viviane and Morgana/Morgaine, do not "belong" to me; I'm borrowing them as they appear in Marion Zimmer Bradley's _Mists of Avalon_. Of course, they appear centuries before that, shrouded in the mists of time and myth...

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_While wizarding people are susceptible to illnesses and ailments which are unknown to Muggles, the stomach flu is a nasty bug which does not bother with such distinctions. With students returning to Hogwarts in September, the place, as you grumbled, became flooded with pests...in more ways than one._

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The start of the term was never particularly pleasant for Severus Snape. With house rivalries solidly cemented between especially Gryffindor and Slytherin, he knew he could look forward to quarrels, skirmishes and other "un-pleasantries". Also, with the return of so many people, the school naturally became a bed of germs. September blew cold autumnal air over the castle; Madam Pomfrey was kept very busy and Severus supplied her with a batch of potions.

Harry, on the other hand, was delighted to see his friends again; he was given squashy hugs by Hermione and Ron, and Hagrid, who had returned from negotiations with the giants, was a heart-warming presence. Severus watched on sourly as Harry, reunited with Hermione, Ron, Neville, Ginny, Luna etc., became cheerful in a matter of an hour. Thanks to his classes, Harry was away from the dungeons and from the sullen presence of his husband. Minerva McGonagall had had to refuse taking over Harry's Potions lessons due to her already enormous workload, and so Harry saw his husband in Potions, much to his concern. Being in the same classroom with his teacher-spouse was rather disagreeable and not very different from their usual living arrangements in the dungeons. Severus completely ignored Harry, which Harry felt was far better than having to endure the man's insults and sneers. Draco's absence and the subdued behaviour of his fellow-Slytherins were unintentionally supportive, too. Due to the Slytherin common room and dormitories being in the dungeons like his and Severus's rooms, Severus had to show Harry an alternative route to reach their quarters via another entrance in order to avoid passing Slytherins on the way and arousing suspicion. This entrance was guarded by a portrait of a woman, Viviane, who strongly resembled Morgana; and indeed, she was Morgana's aunt. Like her niece, she was kind to Harry and had a spark of wise humour hidden away in her dark eyes.

"The Potions Master's husband...and protector," she said enigmatically. "A good match. Have you chosen a password, Harry Potter?"

In the meantime, Hermione and Ron, who were also in NEWT potions with Harry, found it rather difficult to believe that Harry and Severus were a married couple. Ron, especially, still found it hard to get used to the idea. He sorely missed Harry's presence in the seventh-year Gryffindor boys' dormitory. The other Gryffindors had been told that special arrangements had been made for Harry due to his enmity with Voldemort.

"So...have you two...you know...done it?" Ron breathed to Harry, taking the opportunity to talk as the contents in their cauldron underwent a loud hissing phase. Hermione threw him a reprimanding glance.

Harry shook his head glumly. While he was happy to be away from Severus for at least part of the time, several of his classmates treated him as if he was suffering from impaired intelligence due to his inability to speak. They either spoke to him in loud voices, enunciating their words slowly, underlining their words with expansive gestures, or they simply didn't speak to him at all. And then there was still his next Telepathy lesson looming on the horizon.

What cheered him up a lot was the fact that Hermione had found an excellent and immensely helpful charm which allowed Harry's quill to write down what Harry wanted to say on its own.

"It's like that charm on that Skeeter creature's quill, but without embellishments," Hermione said. All Harry had to do was suck the end of the quill, like Rita Skeeter had done with her Quick Quotes Quill, before he wanted to "say" something. He could answer questions in class efficiently by using this method, and communicate far more easily with his friends.

"Oh dear, so you've still got it before you," Ron observed mournfully after Harry negated his question. Hermione managed to shoot him a glare and pour just the right amount of moth wings into her cauldron at the same time. Snape paced past her cauldron, glancing down his haughty hooked nose at the contents. Harry studiously consulted his textbook as he felt the black eyes sweep over the back of his neck like two stabbing stalactites. Their Telepathy lesson was due the next day, and Harry felt his stomach clench. Actually, his stomach had been feeling quite funny the whole morning, but he blamed Potions and the stress catching up with him for his ventral condition.

It was two o'clock in the morning when Harry stumbled out of bed and made a beeline for the bathroom, overpowered by an attack of diarrhoea. An hour later, he was forced to throw up in the sink. Severus, who was reading in the hall – the pain in his forearm prevented him from going to bed – heard the distant sounds of doors slamming in Harry's quarters. Frowning, he tossed his book aside and swore underneath his breath; he glided into Harry's room when he saw rays of light seeping from underneath the door. His frown deepened. The bed was rumpled and empty, and Harry's slippers were still near the bed. He could hear retching from the bathroom. Severus forgot about his own pain and moved towards the bathroom. He could hear the tap running and Harry rinsing his mouth and coughing. The youth raised his head, as if he could sense Severus's proximity, and caught his husband's eye in the bathroom mirror. He lowered his toothbrush.

"You are ill," Severus stated, then winced inwardly at the absurd superfluity of his observation. Harry gestured at his stomach.

"Mh." Severus raised his hand and rested it against Harry's forehead. The youth was running a low fever. At the same time, the heat and throbbing decreased in his forearm. Harry noticed the expression of momentary respite on Severus's face, and when Severus lowered his hand, Harry placed his palm on Severus's forearm. The two wizards stared at each other, both of them ill in body and ill at ease.

"I don't need your help, Potter," Severus rapped out crossly, shaking off Harry's hand. There was a very uncomfortable silence. Severus hated being dependant on someone.

"You, on the contrary, need mine." Severus said finally. "I have some knowledge of Healing – compulsory as a Potions Master."

Harry wondered about Severus's past, about his studies, his vast knowledge.

Severus guided him to his bed with a firm hand on his arm and made him lie down and bare his stomach.

"Diarrhoea?"

Harry nodded.

"How many times?"

Harry held up one finger.

"When?"

Harry displayed two fingers.

"And you just vomited; how many times?"

Harry held up one finger again.

Severus conjured a disc-like object which Harry had seen Madam Pomfrey use; it corresponded to a Muggle stethoscope. The disc settled down on Harry's stomach at a gesture from Severus. The Potions Master stooped, strands of his long dark hair brushing Harry's stomach, his ear nearly touching the disc; then he straightened up and tapped the tense area with two fingers.

"Stomach flu," he pronounced without a moment's hesitation, his black eyes meeting Harry's green ones. "I am not surprised, considering all those biped incubators flooding the premises. You will need to take two potions."

It was an advantage to be married to a Potions Master, Harry mused as Severus strode away silently. The tall wizard soon returned with two small bottles. He held one of them up.

"This one might make you vomit in another two or three hours. It is necessary to purge all that rubbish from your stomach. Obviously, we will have to postpone your Telepathy lesson, and you will need to miss class for two or three days," Severus explained bluntly, handing Harry the potions. Harry ingested them obediently.  
"The fever will be gone in the morning," Severus said, sounding prophetic. "Please drink both these potions every four hours."

Harry gave him a thankful nod and smile, noting the harsh lines on Severus's face which made the wizard look tired and grim. Severus studied him for a few moments, gave him a brief nod in return and left the room. Harry thought he had left for good and lay down, covering up his midriff. A little later, Severus returned with a cloth soaked in an herbal concoction which he placed on Harry's hot forehead for a few minutes.

"This will ease the discomfort caused by the fever," he explained abruptly. The silence between them was more comfortable, and Severus felt the pain in his Dark Mark fade due to the skin contact. When he removed the cloth, he discovered that Harry had fallen asleep, his black eyelashes long and thick against his cheek. The faintest of smiles flitted over Severus's stern features. He rose, turned off the lights and went back to his bedroom.

For the first time as a Hogwarts teacher, he kept the door of his own bedroom ajar in case he heard Harry wake up in renewed distress.

During the next few days, Severus supervised Harry's diet firmly, making sure that he had only toast and tea three times a day. After two days, the bland meals were exchanged for rice, soup and boiled carrots. The meals were brought by a doleful Dobby, who inquired tenderly about Harry's health every time he appeared. When Harry asked Severus if Hermione and Ron could come over, Severus merely answered expressionlessly:

"These are _our_ rooms and you are my spouse and the Headmaster would come down on me like a ton of bricks if I did not allow Mr Weasley and Miss Granger to invade the sanctity of these hallowed dungeons. However, I would be infinitely grateful if you confined their presence to your quarters."

Harry slowly recovered his strength and appetite while Hermione and Ron brought him their class notes and his homework.

"At least he's not ignoring the fact that you're ill. I wouldn't have put it past him to simply-"

"Ron, Professor Snape is Harry's _husband_," Hermione said pointedly.

"As if I need reminding," Ron said mournfully. He looked around Harry's room.

"No window," he remarked. "How do you stand it in here?"

"Ronald! Stop being so insensitive!" Hermione snapped. "I'm glad he's giving you potions and keeping an eye on your diet, Harry, it shows that he feels responsible for your well-being."

Ron looked rather sceptical, but he prudently refrained from contesting Hermione's statement.

"Anyway, Harry, let me get this right: when that git...I mean, Snape....touches you, his Dark Mark stops hurting him? And Dumbledore said you've got to make sure this Telepathic bond of yours turns two-way or that you've got to, you know, fuck?"

"Ron, do you really have to be so crude?" Hermione sighed. Harry grinned a bit and moistened the end of his quill.

_Yep. That's pretty much what he said_, the quill wrote.

Ron gulped.

"Mate, I suggest that you drink so much Firewhiskey until you pass out, and then...Snape...you know...I mean, at least you won't have to, er, witness it or...participate consciously...Hey, just kidding!"

"Ron, dealing with this situation as if it's a joke is not going to help. Look, Harry and Severus are married, and they've got to get to know each other and take things step by step. That's what you're doing, aren't you, Harry?"

Harry shrugged and nodded simultaneously.

"Well, you've got to try as hard as you can, Harry," Hermione said firmly. "You've got to make _him_ try as hard as possible, too. If anyone can do it, then you can."

"But that doesn't mean that you should let him walk all over you like a Hippogriff."

Harry's eyes glinted behind his spectacles.

_I've always stood up to him and I always will._

"It's all about finding the right balance between cooperation and resistance," Hermione said wisely.

"Very straightforward," Ron snorted.

A week later, Harry was back to normal, albeit a little thinner. Severus, in the meantime, was suffering around the clock due to the pain in his arm. Dumbledore grew worried, insisting that he "counteract" it; but Severus waited and bore the pain until Harry was eating normally – and thus ready to resume his Telepathy lessons; and in the back of Severus's mind, a pesky little voice reminded him that one month of the three-month-deadline for consummating the marriage had already elapsed.

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	16. Chapter 15

**CHAPTER 15**

_Hermione told me once that I've got this thing about saving people. So do you, Severus. I guess you're more...well...low-key about it..._

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Once Harry had fully recovered from his stomach flu – under the stern supervision of his husband – Severus was ready to continue with the Telepathy lessons – with utter disregard to his own health. The pain in his forearm was terrible and had spread to his left shoulder and side. Performing any movement with his arm was a torture, and he had not slept at all for four nights. He could not avoid Harry altogether and snapped viciously at the youth when Harry asked him anxiously what was wrong and added that he should go and see Dumbledore or at least Madam Pomfrey.

The concerned look on Harry's face when Severus entered the library for their Telepathy lesson did nothing to improve the suffering man's temper. Severus sat down heavily on the chair opposite Harry, his graceful movements completely non-existent. Harry shook his head and gestured towards Severus's left arm.

"I am not ill, Potter!" Severus growled. Harry shot him a defiant yes-you-are stare.

"We are not here to discuss my health. We are here to hammer some Telepathy into that obtuse mind of yours!" he continued. Harry sighed and rose.

"Just what do you think you are doing?" Severus snarled. Harry sucked at the tip of his faithful quill, which wrote:

_I'm going to fetch the Headmaster._

Severus lunged forwards and seized Harry's wrist.

"You will do nothing...Ah..." A tremor rushed through his body as the pain began to subside abruptly. He pulled back his hand with a major effort.

"I refuse to be dependent on anyone. Least of all on _you_!" he declared irately. His face had become a sickly ashen colour, and he was swaying dangerously. As Harry watched, a trickle of blood flowed down the inside of Severus's left forearm and into his palm. The dark eyes suddenly became blank. Severus's chair fell over with a crash as he fainted against it. With a gasp, Harry leapt towards him and caught him, stumbling for a moment before lowering him gently onto the floor. His face was as pale as his husband's. He tried to pull up Severus's left sleeve, but the limb was so swollen that Harry had to use a voiceless charm to cut the sleeve and push back the cloth. His stomach lurched. The Dark Mark seemed to have grown black and red tentacles which were spreading all the way up the tortured arm. Harry groped for Hagrid's flute in his pocket and summoned Dobby. The elf arrived promptly, uttering a squeak of alarm when he appeared on the scene; and within a minute, Dumbledore and Pomfrey were sweeping into the library. Harry was holding Severus's hand tightly in his, hoping the skin contact would rouse Severus from unconsciousness...or make those obnoxious tentacles recede. Dumbledore knelt down next to Severus, placing his hand on the gaunt cheek. Harry inhaled sharply when Severus opened his eyes.

"What happened?" Madam Pomfrey was exclaiming, advancing and bending over the Potions Master.

Harry's quill flew over the parchment.

Madam Pomfrey looked pale and anxious as she examined Severus's arm, unbuttoning his robes and exposing his upper body in the process. The tentacles decorated the left portion of Severus's chest in a ghoulish, freakish manner. The matron's face was taut.

"There is no need..." Severus started to growl, trying to push her hand away. He did not, or rather, could not let go of Harry's hand – the young wizard was making sure to keep a tight grip on his fingers.

"Severus, you need to do something about this immediately. Your arm is so swollen that it is cutting off your circulation. In other words: you're in danger of losing your arm, and from the looks of it, that Dark Mark's curse is spreading – it is starting to take over your body. I do not think I am exaggerating by stating that your life is at risk."

"Poppy is right, Severus," Dumbledore affirmed, rising. Harry looked up at him, his eyes haunted.

Dumbledore rested his hand briefly upon Harry's messy hair.

"Thank you for sending Dobby to me at once, Harry."

There was a pause.

"You know what you need to do, Harry, Severus," Dumbledore resumed very softly.

Madam Pomfrey's shoulders stiffened and she studied the floor briefly before looking straight at Harry, who nodded immediately.

_I will_, he transmitted to the quill.

Harry turned his head and gazed at Severus, who was staring at him penetratingly, as if assessing him over and over again. Then he turned his head away.

"I cannot," he rasped.

"You have to, child," Dumbledore said.

"Severus, when will you trust Harry?" Poppy Pomfrey asked briskly.

"It's none of your business," Severus flared, sitting up abruptly and trying to tug his hand out of Harry's grip. "Let go of me!"

Harry shook his head angrily.

"Severus," Dumbledore said softly. "Are you suicidal?"

Severus glowered at a bookshelf and said nothing. Dumbledore stretched out his hand and brushed Severus's cheek tenderly with his palm.

"You will not find peace like this, my child. I shall leave you two alone, now."

His blue eyes shifted to Harry's green ones.

"Call us at once if anything happens," Madam Pomfrey said steadily. As soon as she and Dumbledore had gone – reluctantly and anxiously – Severus broke Harry's grip, wrenching his hand away. His face became white with pain again.

"I refuse to have you hold my hand while I use the bathroom," he snarled, striding out of the library and towards his bedroom, slamming the door. Harry drew a deep breath and folded his hands, clasping them in front of his face as if he was praying. Emotions ran over his face and sparkled in his eyes, finally accumulating in a film of tears which obscured his view; then he went to his own room, his posture determined, his head held high: a young man with a purpose as clear as Veritaserum.

Severus, in the meantime, staggered out of the bathroom and lay down upon his bed, moaning softly. The bedroom door suddenly opened, and Harry entered, his robes looking dishevelled. Severus narrowed his black eyes dangerously.

"What-" he began, then broke off, momentarily forgetting the waves of pain which were assailing him afresh. Harry was standing before him, completely naked, having flung off his robes. His green eyes were glittering feverishly behind his spectacles.

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	17. Chapter 16

**CHAPTER 16**

A/N: Dear all, I apologise (not for the first time, lol!) for keeping you waiting. I found this chapter very difficult to write; it contains scenes full of (intentional) awkwardness and negative tension, and bringing that across was a big challenge. I do not know whether I have succeeded, and it took me ages until I was even remotely satisfied with this chapter.

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When Severus finally reacted, it was with rage and revulsion. He staggered out of bed, picked up Harry's robes and pressed them against the youth's bare chest.

"Have you taken leave of your senses? Do you expect me to...take you, on the spot? Who do you think I am? I may be many things, but rapist, child molester or-"

Harry tried to silence him by taking his hand, but Severus backed away.

"I will _not_ do this!" he said from between gritted teeth.

And suddenly, without warning, Harry's voice was in his mind, speaking clearly:

/You will! We will! Or do you want to lose your life just because you are being so fucking stubborn? We're supposed to take care of each other! Stop pushing me away all the time! I am seventeen. I am not a child or boy! I am a MAN!/

Severus actually stumbled backwards; his head was suddenly aching nearly as much as his forearm, then the fierce pain faded abruptly. He felt Harry guide him to the bed. Gentle but firm hands made him lie down.

"What...! How...?" he spluttered incoherently. Harry was breathing a little fast, those green eyes drilling into Severus's black ones. He was just as amazed as Severus at what had happened. The Dark Mark had stopped howling with pain and was only prickling uneasily. Harry suddenly felt dizzy and leant against the bed, momentarily overwhelmed by the shock of power brought on by the spontaneous wave of Telepathy. Severus was staring at the ceiling. Obviously, Dumbledore had been right: Harry's touch stilled the pain, Telepathy eased it but did not completely erase it...and consummation would combine the two, counteracting the curse with a magical contract far stronger than their connection to Voldemort...

His long fingers finally wrapped around Harry's, accepting the youth's touch. Harry, mostly naked, his robes spread untidily over his lap, was sitting quietly on the edge of the bed, simply looking at his husband.

"You are the most persistent and resilient creature I have ever met, Harry Potter. In fact, you are almost as bad as Albus."

Harry smiled a little, perceiving the hidden affection towards Dumbledore in the statement. It was also a hidden compliment towards himself. Severus stretched out his legs, aware, too aware of Harry's semi-nude figure just next to him. It was incredible, he thought with growing horror, that he was still capable of getting an erection after he had fainted with excruciating pain only a few minutes ago and not slept for more than half a week. Well, he tried to reassure himself, it would make intercourse with Harry easier.

"I wish," Severus said very softly, his voice nearly sweet in the sincerity of his sadness, "that I could promise you pleasure, Harry. I cannot. But I am..." he moistened his lips, and when he resumed, the words seemed forced from him against his will:

"I am beginning to understand why the Headmaster joined us together in marriage."

Harry's hand was firm in his. Its warmth made him feel good. So good.

"It is painful the first time," Severus continued. "I will give you something to numb the discomfort. Do not shake your head, Po...Harry. I refuse to have my partner suffer needlessly. Also, I insist on your writing utensils being in constant proximity."

Harry Summoned his parchment and quill – he was very good at performing this spell wandlessly. Parchment and quill arrived, settling down near Harry's head.

Severus paused, uncertain how to proceed. Harry took the initiative, scrambling up on the bed, still clutching his robes to his front. He looked into Severus's black eyes, asking for permission, half reclining on his elbow. Severus nodded slightly. Harry lay down, facing his husband.

They looked at each so intensely and seriously that a viewer would have thought that the invisible bridge created by their gaze alone was physically tangible. Harry withdrew his hand from Severus's grip slowly and touched Severus's shoulder very gently. Severus lowered his eyes; never in all his life had he been touched like this. He raised his head after a few moments and returned the touch, his long tapering fingers curling over Harry's slight shoulder blade. Severus felt his skin tingle, and the tingling spread through his whole self as he looked at Harry. The youth was delicately and exquisitely built, that messy hair wonderfully rebellious and those cat-eyes never moving away from his face. His hand – the left one with the wedding ring – hovered over his robe-veiled manhood. Too impatient to waste time on stripping, Severus divested himself of his clothes with a murmured spell, and a pool of robes and underwear promptly materialised at the foot of the bed. He was visibly aroused. Harry flushed heavily and moistened his lips; but he did not move his eyes away from his husband. He shifted closer, his chest nudging Severus's arm, and ran his hand through the curtain of dark hair which tumbled past Severus's cheek. Severus bowed his head as Harry's hand explored the texture of his hair – cautiously, uncertainly, as if ready to be snatched back at the slightest sneer or snarl from Severus.

Seeing Harry in his nearly naked glory made Severus feel used up and ugly. Then Harry's palm brushed his chest gently, intimately. The spontaneity of the touch and the trust it expressed made Severus forget about his insecurity. He cursed the Ministry for having such a narrow-minded definition of sex. There were many people who didn't like penetration and were perfectly happy with expressing their sexuality in a variety of other ways – there was no limit to the human imagination, Severus thought. His dark eyes moved to the robes with which Harry was covering his lap. Harry, noticing his gaze, thrust the robes away briskly. Severus felt his spirits plummet when he noticed that Harry was not at all aroused. He felt nauseous and disgusted at himself. The Dark Mark was utterly and happily mute, oblivious to his emotional condition, absorbed by Harry's touch.

"If you feel more comfortable covering...yourself, then please do so. It is natural that this type of unaccustomed exposure is unsettling for you," Severus said, managing to make his voice mild and considerate.

Harry bit his lip, hesitating; and it was Severus who gently drew the robes back over Harry's middle portion. There was an awkward silence between them before Severus continued:

"Now, about positions. You can lie on your back facing me, or you can lie on your stomach without eye contact with me. Some people don't like the latter position, especially in the beginning. It demands a lot of trust." he said, surprised that his voice sounded so soothing and soft instead of harsh and cold.

Harry answered by lying on his back and looking up at him steadily, flexing one knee in a subconscious gesture of invitation. Severus tried not to blink. Who in their right mind would want eye contact with him during intercourse? Harry touched his wrist, reached for his quill and sucked the tip.

_I'd feel more comfortable if I looked at your face,_ he explained.

In another situation, Severus would have found the words more than just frank; he would have found them erotic – wildly, wonderfully, wickedly erotic. So Harry wanted to look at him during sex. At _him_, of all people. And he would be able to watch Harry's face...And in this situation, these musings only served to deepen his misery – his and Harry's, he reflected; and, what was even more upsetting: Severus noticed that although Harry's gaze was perfectly firm, the youth's fingers were twisting the seam of the sheets in a unintentional gesture of nervousness.

Severus placed his hand on Harry's forehead.

"I shall do my utmost to cause you as little discomfort as possible," he said in a low voice.

_I know, Severus. I trust you,_ Harry's quill reassured him. Something twisted in Severus's chest as he read the words. The simple statement was one of the nicest ones Severus had ever heard – he had not had many nice moments in his life. It somehow assuaged the pain of yearlong rancour and bitterness and deepened it at the same time. With long fingers, Severus reached for what he needed; the numbing agent for Harry; a condom; and, finally, a small vial of potion to induce erection – his natural one had yielded to the increasing gloominess of his mood and wilted like a desiccated plant. After preparing Harry – the youth obligingly raised his hips and parted his legs, which somehow made the whole matter worse – and ingesting the potion, both of them were ready, staring into each other's eyes again. Severus saw a slight tremor pass through Harry's body. As he bent over Harry, the young wizard's hands on his hips and the thighs raised on either side of his body tensed. Severus experienced a sensation of utter helplessness and self-loathing; then those green eyes locked firmly with his again; and they commanded him to go ahead with what they both had to do.

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	18. Chapter 17

**CHAPTER 17**

A/N: I apologise for the massive delay. I accidentally deleted the main document containing material for the next chapters – lots of material. I had a backup which I had not updated for a long time, so I lost about 15 pages full of text for future chapters. This put a damper on my writing – and I ended up with a nasty bout of writer's block. Luckily, I managed to beat down the block :-)

_You were gentle. Very gentle. Absurdly gentle for a man of your temperament and disposition. You kept your eyes closed throughout, and when you opened them, I saw just how much you had suffered. How much you had been raped._

Severus was lying silently next to Harry, eyes shut, one hand absent-mindedly cupping the youth's shoulder. There was something protective about the gesture – something caring, and Harry did not flinch away from the strangely reassuring pressure on his shoulder. In that moment, when something had just ended and just started, they both needed each other. Physically, Harry had hardly felt anything during the act – just Severus's thrusting and the numb friction caused thereby. Severus had kept his eyes closed throughout the process, trying to summon the climax which was necessary to validate their bond with images of bygone "lovers", if he could call them thus. And now, lying next to his husband, he found himself marvelling at his husband's undaunted perseverance; his calm; his growing maturity.  
Harry's shoulder was firm underneath his palm. He felt a hand on his waist, startling him with its warmth and consideration. His eyes snapped open. Harry's face was very close to his, the green eyes looking at him with compassion instead of revulsion. And the pain...the pain from his arm...had vanished completely. In fact, as he moved his eyes from Harry's face to his own arm and chest, he saw that all traces of the Dark Mark's curse had gone – and the brand itself was but a pale pattern against his skin. The strangest feelings and thoughts rushed through his mind, and he sought Harry's eyes again. He moistened his lips.

"You..." Again his tongue ran over his lips, and he squeezed Harry's shoulder very awkwardly.

"You have saved my life. I owe you my thanks, Harry." Severus stared at his arm again and resumed, "I was in agony; no doubt my demise would have been a rather disagreeable experience."

Harry was not sure how to react to what he considered rather uncharacteristic behaviour from Severus. He reached for his quill and sucked at the tip.

_See? It wasn't that bad after all,_ his quill finally scribbled. Severus read the words and actually laughed.

"No. It wasn't that bad after all," he agreed dryly; then, abruptly, "Are you feeling any discomfort?"

Harry shook his head. Severus watched him narrowly, as if mistrusting the gesture.

"It seems that when you really make an effort, you can perform Telepathy. You require plenty of practice. Your performance was very sloppy," the Potions Master continued.

_It was urgent,_ Harry answered.

"Indeed," Severus commented succinctly, raising an eyebrow. Harry smiled; he was quite used to that raised eyebrow. On the other hand, he was speculating that it was only a matter of seconds until Severus kicked – or hexed – him out of his bed. He started to fold back the sheet which was lying across his chest. His robes were still wrapped around his middle – Severus, he noted, had taken care not to derange them during the consummation, ensuring that Harry's dignity was not thrust aside completely.

"Ah, yes, you will want to return to your own bed, of course," Severus remarked, and the acrid bitterness which laced the words was reflected in his black eyes. "An entirely understandable wish. We have done our duty."

Harry turned to Severus and sucked the quill again.

_I apologise. I didn't want to hurt you. I just didn't want to take away your privacy._

Severus uttered a hollow laugh.

"My husband, marriage equals the destruction of privacy."

_I disagree. Marriage implies renegotiation of privacy._

Severus snorted.

"One would think that you had been married before. Several times," he snapped, his sharp temper returning, "Or has Miss Granger been tutoring you?"

_I do not believe in arguing in bed,_ Harry answered and got out of bed briskly, quickly disentangling his robes from around his middle and pulling them over his head and body.  
He bowed his head to button up his robes. When he raised his eyes, his gaze was diverted and captured by the smouldering dark eyes of his husband. Severus was watching him like a hawk, and the expression in those black eyes was burning with what Harry could only call desire. The thin cheeks were flushed; and one long-fingered hand was clutching the sheets. Severus Snape, accomplished Occlumens, worthy opponent of Voldemort, found himself exposed to the charms of his teenage husband – and Harry was oblivious that he possessed such charms, which made the whole situation even more intriguing for the Potions Master. Severus caught himself, and the usual mask of coolness and impassiveness slid over his eyes, shuttering away his feelings. He gestured languidly at Harry's parchment and quill.

"Do not forget your writing utensils, Potter," he said and climbed out of the bed, naked. Harry watched his tall thin figure move towards the adjoining bathroom. The door closed behind Severus with a brief snap. Harry went over to the bed and collected his quill, parchment and glasses. He could see the indentations and creases left in the bedclothes by his and Severus's bodies. Such distant intimacy, he mused and stretched out his hand, as if to smoothen out some of the wrinkles; a Petunian habit, actually, acquired from years of doing all the household chores while living with the Dursleys. He withdrew his hand and left the room silently, barefoot, his heart thudding in his ears, his cheeks on fire, as if the entire pent-up nervousness of the last thirty minutes was finally breaking over him in a released wave. He recalled Severus's eyes locking with his in that scorching stare after he, Harry, had finished dressing. He headed straight for the bathroom, suddenly feeling exhausted.


	19. Chapter 18

**CHAPTER 18**

_I was afraid that you would avoid me...afterwards. I was sure you would. I was already steeling myself for your coldness, your contempt towards me. _

---

Severus paused in front of Harry's door, hesitating. He tried not to imagine what Harry was feeling. Did he feel raped? Disgusted with himself and with Severus? Severus sighed softly, and his long fingers caressed the small bottle of potion – he was certain that Harry would experience discomfort the next morning. He had toyed with the idea of sending Dobby to Harry, but he felt that this was something he, Severus, had to do. They were married, after all, and they had just shared a bed, albeit the circumstances which had forced them into intimacy. He raised his hand to knock on the door, vaguely remembering how he had not bothered to respect Harry's privacy in the past, preferring to simply open the door and talk down to the youth. He knocked. A few seconds passed; then Harry opened the door, holding his quill and parchment. He was developing the habit of always keeping them close at hand. However incredible it seemed to Harry himself – he was getting used to not being able to speak, and, moreover, to the prospect of most probably not being able to speak _ever again_.

Severus looked at him very closely. Harry seemed calm. His hair was moist – he had showered, and he smelled fresh and just plain good. Had he wept? Severus wondered. The green eyes were untouched by red or sorrow, although they were grave and strangely bare without the glasses.

"I brewed this for you in case you feel any discomfort later on," Severus said, and his tone was gentle to his own surprise. Harry received the potion quietly and sucked at the end of the quill.

_Thank you very much,_ the quill wrote; then it added immediately: _How are you?_

"You are asking me how _I_ am, Harry?" Severus said, uttering a bitter laugh. "I forced my way into your body, and you are asking _me_ about _my_ wellbeing? You are not developing what the Muggles call Stockholm Syndrome, are you?"

Harry shot him an exasperated look.

_We have discussed this, Severus. You know that you are not a rapist. _

"Do I?" Severus said, and the two words seemed to hang frostily in the air.

_I do, even if you don't – or don't want to. And so do Dumbledore and my friends, _was the prompt answer, and the green eyes flashed. There was a brief tense silence.

"Keep that bottle near you in case you need it in the middle of the night. And if you need...anything..." Severus found himself moistening his lips, "please notify me."

He turned around and passed out of Harry's room, failing to see the slightest of incredulous smiles on his husband's face.

Harry sat down on the bed, studying the little bottle and its amethyst contents, touched that Severus had brewed it for him and come to his room to give it to him in person.

Back in his bedroom, Severus closed his eyes, feeling the sweat of realisation break out all over his body. Was this the reason why he had been so reluctant to marry Harry? Because, in the deepest corners of his mind and heart, he had feared all along that he would be irrevocably charmed by the youth and grow to appreciate Harry for simply being...Harry? He recalled Harry's smile, and he felt the strangest little jump in his stomach and another little jump in his chest. Good grief, what was happening to him? Severus, stubborn as he was, pushed aside these disturbing thoughts, refusing to pursue them further...only to recall that delicious young body, naked and captivating in its unintentional sensuality when Harry had dressed after their consummation...He considered it most ironic that his own body had reacted so strongly _after_ instead of _during _intercourse with Harry. He knew too well that the desire which had flooded him while watching Harry disentangle his robes from around his waist did not stem from the potion he had taken; it had worn off as soon as he had ejaculated.

Severus kept his bedroom door ajar that night, just in case Harry, for some reason or the other, got up in the night; the youth could move quietly as a cat, but Severus placed a charm on one of the hall tiles which would alert him by setting off a mosquito-like buzzing sound in his room if Harry succumbed to his trademark annoying habit of wandering around at night.

Sure enough, the Head of Slytherin was woken up at three o'clock in the morning by the irritating buzzing sound. Severus silenced it with a voiceless spell and rose immediately; he brushed his hair hastily, sipped some water and flung on his housecoat.

A glow came from the hall; Harry was sitting on the sofa, a newly lit fire crackling gently in the hearth. The youth raised his eyes to his: no, they were still not red, although the circles underneath revealed the lack of sleep; no tear tracks shone on his cheeks; no sorrow filled the thoughtful face. Even at that hour he had remembered to take his writing utensils with him, to Severus's satisfaction. He showed no sign of surprise or unease at Severus's appearance.

"You cannot sleep?" Severus half asked, half observed. Harry shook his head slowly.

"Are you in pain? Did you have to take the potion?"

Harry smiled a little and shook his head again.

"But you are restless, yes?"

Harry nodded and made a gesture which returned the observation.

"Indeed; I, too, cannot sleep," Severus admitted, wondering why he was not reluctant to say so. It also struck him how used he was becoming to interpreting Harry's gestures and facial expressions. Harry motioned with his hand, indicating to Severus that he should sit next to him. Severus was astonished that Harry did not show any sign of revulsion in his presence. He moved towards the sofa cautiously and sat down. Harry drew up his socked feet, resting them on the seat, as if he was comfortable in Severus's direct proximity. Severus opened his mouth to speak, but Harry raised his index finger to Severus's lips and his other index finger to his own lips, asking for silence. Severus understood; it was silence they both needed; silence and each other's presence, however strange this seemed considering their forced closeness during the consummation; and still it made perfect sense to them. After a while, Severus felt Harry relax against his shoulder; turning his head, he discovered that Harry had finally fallen asleep.

He stared down at the sleeping youth. He wanted to cry. He wanted to rest his head against Harry's calm peaceful face and weep. He simply wanted to...let go. He gritted his teeth against the sudden lump in his throat and stroked back his husband's messy hair, exposing the scar, but he was not interested in it.

"You saved my life," he muttered. After watching Harry's face, sweet in repose, for a few minutes, he Summoned a blanket to cover Harry, after managing, more or less, to manoeuvre Harry in a lying position – he dared not, even by magical means, get Harry back to his own bed in case the young man woke up. He did cast a spell on the fire, though, to ensure that it would glow throughout the night.

Back in his bedroom, Severus returned to the bed, too tired to question his uncharacteristic behaviour – or that odd good feeling which had been induced by something as simple as caressing Harry's face and covering him with a blanket.

---


	20. Chapter 19

**CHAPTER 19**

A/N: Dear all, I am so terribly sorry about the massive delay. My long rough patch was quite long and quite rough indeed, but I am getting out of it :-) Also, please excuse the appalling brevity of this chapter...which is rendered completely in Harry's point of view after consummating his marriage with Severus.

I will be in Venice for the whole of next week, so no updates due to travelling ;-)

---

_What did I feel like? What was I supposed to feel like? Is there such a thing like having to feel in a certain way? I guess so. There are always expectations. _

_So we had done it. We had consummated our bond, and you were no longer in pain or in danger of dying. But I could see from the look in your eyes that you had expected me to be in some kind of pain after our consummation. I admit that the circumstances, the setting, the act itself were not exactly what you'd read about in novels or see in Muggle movies. There's a reason why they're called fiction, after all. Our first times with each other were not exactly promising, were they? But I realised so many things when we did what we had to do. You were gentle with me in ways I had not expected. We had come to expect things from each other – negative things. I hadn't expected you to be rough with me, but I had thought that you would...just go ahead with it, not look at me..._

_You nearly died because you regarded our consummation as rape. It was like you wanted to die. But I, I wanted you to live. You said that you could not promise me pleasure. Of course you couldn't – how can anyone promise something like pleasure? It was the thought that you were thinking of my pleasure that touched me. Which made me understand more things about you. Which made me know you, and want to know you, better. You insisted that I keep my writing utensils nearby; you made sure that I had, in a way, words at my disposal throughout the procedure. These little gestures made me stay up at night after we had gone through the procedure, wondering about you, wondering about what was going to become out of us and our relationship. I had all kinds of feelings going on within myself as I lay in bed staring at the ceiling. Something had happened. So many things had happened... _

_You told me that I had saved your life. You looked at me as if you were wondering who I really was. And your hand, cupping my shoulder after it was over...your hand, so warm, so firm, so gentle...I had been afraid that you would scorn me as you had scorned my father for saving your life. You did not. I don't quite know why, Severus, but you did not. It meant so much to me when you brought me some potion to ease any physical discomfort I might be experiencing after our consummation. And I felt guilty because you felt guilty for my sake – that you felt like a rapist when we had actually been raped by the circumstances, in a way – and by Voldemort. _

_When I woke up the morning after our consummation, I found myself lying on the sofa, a blanket wrapped around me. The fire was still burning. I was warm. Warm not only because of the blanket and the fire, but also warm with the knowledge that you had seen to my comfort. So that was what trusting you felt like. And it felt good – so good. _

_I still feel your hand on my shoulder. And now, touching my shoulder myself, I can actually feel it tingle...tingle with the memory of that touch...of your touch..._

---


	21. Chapter 20

**CHAPTER 20**

A/N: Erm, please forgive me for the massive delay. Real life...but...the semester holidays are here! :-) Most importantly: thanks a million for putting up with the delays, all the best for 2010, and this will never be an abandoned story. Ever :-)

_I could see that you did not know how to behave towards me after our consummation. I noticed you glancing at me frequently, whenever you thought that I wouldn't notice. Waiting for me to lash out at you or something. To yield to what you would have probably called Gryffindor histrionics. _

_When I woke up that morning, the blanket around me and the fire crackling softly in the hearth, I saw you sitting on the sofa opposite the one I was lying on, staring at me broodingly. You tensed when I woke up, rubbed my eyes and noticed that I was warm. _

After the consummation, Severus was at a loss at how to behave towards Harry. No matter what Harry had told him and regardless of their circumstances – he felt like he had raped Harry. He clenched his jaw, trying not to think back to how he had pushed his way into Harry's body. The blank expression on Harry's face. Harry's hands tightening on his hips during penetration. The complete silence...and the complete stillness. Harry just lying there, waiting for it...for him...to be finished. The joyless dutiful climax, pulling out of Harry's body. Of course, Severus thought bitterly, it was a suitable punishment for himself considering what he had done to Harry on their wedding day. Guilt was something he hated. It was a Gryffindor quality and got in the way of cool-headed logic and efficient spying. He spent a sleepless night, buried memories resurfacing, interspersed with images of Harry. Harry as an eleven-year-old child. Harry, his husband. Severus felt sick. Somehow, having known – and despised –Harry as a child made him feel worse. If he had known back then that he would have to violate Harry in such a manner...Even then, as a spy for Voldemort, he would not have been able to show the slightest gleam of goodwill or sympathy towards Harry...Harry, whose life he had saved on more than one occasion...Harry, who had saved Severus's life...

Tired of brooding over such matters, Severus flung the bedclothes aside and got out of bed; it was impossible to sleep with his mind torturing him; even Occlumentic tactics were of no use; there was nothing, nothing at all, to assuage this horrible guilt.

It was only four o'clock in the morning when Severus headed towards his laboratory and shut himself up, preparing some potions. Somehow, the absence of his wedding ring only seemed to remind him more than ever that he was married – married to Harry Potter. He bottled the potions, stacked them away and slowly, reluctantly, entered the hall, where he knew Harry was sleeping. He hesitated for a few moments, then approached the sofa on which Harry was lying. He stared at his husband for a long time, standing next to the sofa, finally retreating quietly to the armchair opposite the sofa. He sat down and gazed at Harry's sleeping face. He could see a faint stubble growing on the youth's cheeks, the sign of newborn adulthood.

Where was he now in the land of sleep? Severus wondered.

Harry had been calm, disquietingly calm after the consummation. Would he rage at Severus when he woke up? Look at him with hatred and repugnance? Severus brooded and thought, and thought and brooded until a stirring sound from the sofa made him raise his head.

Harry was waking up, raising his hands to his face to rub his eyes. He yawned, dropped his hands, and opened his eyes fully. Their ever-startlingly green gaze met Severus's haunted stare. The Potions Master looked away from him determinedly. Harry, his hair sticking up more than ever with sleep, rose from the sofa. He made a gesture towards his room, and then another gesture indicating that he would be back. When he returned after a few minutes, he had changed, brushed his teeth and shaved. He folded the blanket neatly and approached Severus, who said nothing and instead only looked at Harry with his hunted haunted black eyes. Harry stood before him. Severus had already steeled himself mentally for a tirade, an outburst of accusations, an outpouring of hatred. Instead, Harry gave him a small smile and a nod, holding out the blanket to Severus. Severus took it and set it next to him, uncertain what to do next. His hands were folded tautly in his lap. The silence between them was very thick. Finally, Harry did something shocking. He sat down next to Severus, took Severus's hands and held them in his. Severus had the impression that it was he, Severus, who had been in Harry's position – quite literally – during intercourse. Why was it that Harry was trying to – damn him! – comfort him? How come Harry was not accusing him of rape and avoiding him with disgust and loathing? Strange whispers around him. Disjointed words echoing in his head...followed softly, gently, by Harry's telepathic voice; so gentle that it was not invasive; on the contrary: it was soothing.

/You are not guilty./

"How can you know what I am thinking?" Severus asked, his voice cold, devoid of any emotion.

/I can hear some of what you are thinking. I just can. Like whispers. Can you hear mine, too?/

Severus studied the handsome young face.

"No," he said flatly, lying. And of course it was so like Harry Potter to persist and insist, to not give up, repelled by his tone, but to persuade.

/That's because you don't want to hear...or don't want to admit that you can hear,/ was the next statement; then a look of malaise passed over Harry's face, and he gripped at Severus's hands and frowned slightly, dizzily.

"You are not used to conversing with me, or with anyone, for that matter, via Telepathy; you are a pupil who has yet to master the finer arts of mental magic and who will have to use writing utensils for a while," Severus remarked, snapping back into the role of the detached analyst, not realising that he had impulsively wrapped his long fingers around Harry's, responding to his husband's grip.


	22. Chapter 21

**CHAPTER 21**

A/N: Sorry again about the huge delay....but here it is finally: the next chapter. Thank you for hanging in there and putting up with the hiatus :-D Due to fanfiction's latest software updates, my paragraph separators (consisting of hyphens) have vanished, so I am using square brackets to replace them :-)

[] [] []

_Were quill-and-parchment-free times ahead of me? How would I perform with regard to Legilimency? What if it turned out to be my fifth year all over again? _

[] [] []_  
_

Harry straightened up as soon as he felt the giddiness leave. Severus was still holding his hands. More soft whispers around him and in his head; then silence as Harry shook off the after-effects induced by use of raw – untrained – Telepathy. Severus let go of Harry's hands, and they looked at each other. Severus waited – waited for the long overdue outburst of anger and accusations, and a long suppressed feeling spread in his chest; grieving for someone else's grief – hurting for someone else's hurt; and that someone else was Harry, his husband. The whispers were flowing towards him, and this time, he did not recoil from them, sensing that Harry was looking at him because he wanted to simply talk to Severus – not rage at him or blame him.

"I can hear them," he said to Harry. "I am unable to distinguish them or the exact words, but I can hear them."

And Harry smiled at him, and there was sadness and happiness all at once in just that one smile. Then:

/I'm hungry. Are you also hungry?/

"A little," Severus said stiffly. He checked his watch. It was five o'clock in the morning.

A big breakfast later, delivered by a bright-eyed Dobby, Severus set about teaching his husband Legilimency. He ushered Harry, who was enveloped by a very pleasant aroma of shower soap and toothpaste, into the library.

"Sit. Please," Severus said, all teacher and unapproachable Potions Master again. Harry complied, folding his hands in his lap. Severus could see his parchment, quill and wand tucked away in the pocket of his robes. He looked around at the room, at its austere furnishings and its rigid stone walls. Like all the other rooms in his quarters, it had no windows. He looked back at Harry. He was, Severus concluded, a creature who needed air and fire. No wonder why Gryffindors were such airheads, cluttering up one of the castle's highest towers...He rubbed the corner of his mouth with his index finger to hide a smirk and studied his husband's cautious face.

"It will never do to teach you here," Severus expressed his thoughts. "We need a place with glass. Dungeon space does not seem to benefit you."

Harry blinked. Severus's eyes narrowed.

"Why are you impersonating an owl?"

Instead of a scowl, Severus received a soundless laugh.

"You puzzle me more than a Gryffindor should," Severus remarked.

The green eyes blinked again. Severus glared at him, muttered something about owls underneath his breath and swept from the room.

"Come with me, please," he said coldly, stopping abruptly near the door. Harry moved towards him, Severus noting the lightness and gracefulness of the youth's steps.

Beautiful, he mused, and brutally shoved the thought away, his fingers actually clenching with the effort for a second or two. They left together, Severus making sure that Harry walked beside him instead of behind him – to prevent himself from cricking his neck, as he told himself.

"The castle," Severus said in a nonchalant tone, "has more paths and passages than that map of yours knows."

The tiniest smile hovered around the youth's lips. Severus was quite nonplussed. Why was Harry smiling instead of sulking at his little side blows? Then he heard the whisper, clear as crisp morning air:

_So he does have a sense of humour when he wants to._

Severus came dangerously close to choking. Severus Tobias Snape did not have humour as such. Or rather, he wielded mockery as a means of getting his cynical laughs at others. He glanced at Harry cannily.

"Did you just think _at_ me?"

Harry nodded, looking amused.

"Don't overdo it, otherwise you will have a fainting fit," Severus said tersely. He hated being taken by surprise. Harry merely raised an unruffled eyebrow. He recognised the acid remark for the defensive face-saving strategy it was. Severus Snape, powerful Occlumens and control freak, began to realise that Dumbledore was right. If Harry could master both Occlumency and Legilimency – and there was no doubt that he showed promise in the latter – then he would be a powerful Telepath. Severus snaked his way through tapestries, one invisible staircase Harry had never encountered before, and several narrow corridors, their way constantly climbing. There was one tense moment when their hands brushed. Severus pretended that he had not noticed and increased the distance between them as they walked along. His hand, however, seemed to tingle. Harry, on the other hand, flushed a little, wondering if the touch had triggered memories of their consummation in Severus's mind.

"Now you're overdoing it without being aware of it," Severus stated as a blanket of whispers reached him from Harry; he drew up his Occlumentic shields without delay.

Harry made a gesture of apology and tried not to think so loudly – there was no other way of putting it.

A few minutes later, they were standing in front of what looked like a mirror. When Severus unlocked it with voiceless magic and opened it, Harry realised that it was actually a door, without a handle or lock.

"We have arrived," the Potions Master said, entering the room.

Harry stared. The whole room consisted entirely of mirrors. Floor, walls, ceiling. He felt so giddy that he was practically forced to look at Severus, who was the only object his eyes could focus on without discomfort. Most students, he mused, would have disagreed with him at this point. Severus flicked his wand: the mirrored walls became transparent and turned into windows.

They were in one of the castle's towers; Harry could see the Hogwarts grounds and the shady outline of the Forbidden Forest. It was a cold but fine Saturday morning. As he watched, a Thestral darted out of the trees and plunged back inside again. Severus saw it, too.

Harry checked the question which rose to his mind: whose death had Severus witnessed first? Without doubt Severus must have seen deaths as a Death Eater. Their eyes met, and Severus saw the question in Harry's eyes, sensing the youth's struggle to prevent it from escaping and floating over to Severus in a mind whisper.

"My father," he said without emotion, staring into Harry's eyes, hearing the youth's sharp intake of breath. "He was drunk when a bus rolled over him."

Without thinking, Harry stretched out his hand towards Severus, wanting to touch his forearm, but Severus stepped back.

"I do not have any fond recollections of the man, Potter. Kindly keep your hand to yourself," he snapped.

Harry understood that Severus regarded compassion as an insult to his dignity – it was one of the reasons why Severus had nearly lost his life to the Dark Mark when it had started taking control over his body. Harry recalled the Mirror of Erised. What, he wondered, would Severus see if he looked into the Mirror of Erised?

Severus raised his eyebrows.

"No doubt you came by that knowledge on one of your nocturnal excursions," he said silkily.

"After Christmas, you will be taught Duelling. By me. The Headmaster's idea, naturally. The mirrors in this room will be useful for the purpose."

Harry tilted his head, gazing at the ceiling, meeting the eyes of his reflected upturned face, recalling how vulnerable he had felt after Occlumency lessons; and now, too, it was Severus who had control over the situation and who never let Harry forget how unequal their relationship was; this knowledge was reflected in Severus's stance, his movements, his tone – in his whole demeanour.

"I suggest that we begin," Severus said quietly, his dark eyes on Harry's green ones. The youth nodded without hesitation or fear.

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	23. Chapter 22

**CHAPTER 22**

_I suspected that the consummation had healed your body but hurt your mind in a way I could not fully understand because I knew only little about your past. Somewhere, old wounds had been reopened – or maybe they had never even closed in the first place. I had tried to reassure you, but you still felt guilty, and I felt guilty for causing your guilt. _

[] [] []

The next morning, Severus studied himself in front of the full-length mirror in his bathroom with only a towel around his waist. There was a small smile on his lips. He looked rather different when he smiled. It was as he had expected: Harry showed definite aptitude for Legilimency. There was hard work ahead, of course, but less than he had feared. In this case, Harry's stubbornness would actually be an asset. Although robbed of his voice, Harry was anything but quiet. He filled Severus's quarters with movement, and he disliked staying put in one place – not surprising considering that he had been locked away in a cupboard and bedroom for most of his life. Severus, who was used to just that – being closeted away – found himself intrigued instead of irked by Harry's activities. To his consternation, he realised that he was beginning to enjoy the company of his husband; he appreciated Harry because he was simply Harry. Hardship and marriage to an ill-tempered man like Severus had not blunted Harry's fierce passion or determination in the least; and neither had increasing maturity. He was too much of a fighter to pitch himself into despair and not get up. Contrary to Severus. Why else was he, Severus Snape, so embittered and mean? And yet he had been given a chance to live again. Thanks to Harry, who had saved his life. He gathered his shoulder-length hair in one hand and pressed the water out of it, glancing at his reflection in the mirror from underneath his eyebrows. His face was too gaunt and too harsh to be called handsome. Handsome – no, that he most certainly was not, especially with the habitual sullenness etched in his features. He regarded himself as a cold composed man with a heart which simply served as a pump to keep his body alive – that was the sole purpose of his heart; that, and nothing more. He raised his eyes, meeting the questioning gaze of his reflection, both in the mirror and in his mind. Deep down, he knew that he was flame and fire – not unlike Harry.

He moved, and the towel unravelled and pooled around his feet. Harry had looked at him during sex. He had wanted to look at Severus's face. His hand slid down to his cock, simply holding it as if assessing its weight. He gave it a light tug and let go, turning to the sink to wash his hands. With adulthood came the burden of responsibility and of sexuality, he mused. And with both came sorrow and pain. Harry was adult in the magic world and und underage in the Muggle one. Severus dressed quickly, as if he could cover such broodings as easily as he could cover his nakedness with his clothes.

He turned back towards his reflection, his eyes drilling into mirror-Snape's eyes. All the deeds he had done as a Death Eater – the very decision and act of becoming a Death Eater – he had just shoved them aside, leaving them to fester at the bottom of his soul and poison his life; but never before had he taken possession of another body without completely mutual consent. And, worst of all, he recalled the sharp desire which had assaulted him when he had watched Harry dress. The Quidditch-toned body, delicately but firmly built, strong young legs and arms, a delectable backside and equally delectable cock; and that lean handsome face was frankly fetching. Standing in the bathroom staring into his own black eyes, Severus felt filthy. With a sickly grinding sensation in his stomach, he recalled his visit to the brothel on his wedding day. He had hoped to wash away his rage by exchanging one contamination for another – as he had regarded it. A mistake which was becoming increasingly obvious to him. All because Harry Potter, infernal never-giving-up Gryffindor, was determined to work on their relationship.

He slammed his fist into mirror-Snape's face with such force that his knuckles bled. The mirror shivered and cracked. Severus dropped his head.

"Damn you," he said hoarsely to no one in particular. He had committed a number of atrocities in his life, such as joining the Death Eaters, and had managed to build a wall of numbness between himself and his deeds, rendering him distant to the bitter pangs of remorse on a superficial level. But it was refusing to work with Harry James Potter. In fact, the whole wall was crumbling, and if there was one thing Severus Tobias Snape feared, then it was losing control.

He managed to leave his quarters before Harry did.

[] [] []

"Severus, you are looking ill," Dumbledore remarked during breakfast.

"I am perfectly fine," Severus snapped.

"Please come to my rooms after class, Severus," Dumbledore said.

"Again?"

"Yes. Please."

Severus nodded curtly and pushed aside his fried egg, deliberately avoiding eye contact with the Gryffindor table. Dumbledore, of course, noticed.

"So. I am here," Severus ground out as he entered Dumbledore's quarters, "and I do not want any tea or lemon drops, before you can ask."

"Severus, you are unwell," Dumbledore said directly.

"On the contrary, I am fully healed." He rolled back his sleeve and stretched out his left arm.

"You know that that is not what I mean."

"If you are referring to the consummation, that is over and done with, Albus, as you can see for yourself."

"Severus. Please."

There was a long silence, followed by a rustle of feathers as Fawkes, in his baby form, moved on his perch.

"I RAPED HIM!" Severus suddenly screamed, standing up abruptly and thrusting his chair aside. "Was this the way to save my life? Through rape? Was my life really worth so much?"

Dumbledore went towards him and placed a soothing hand on Severus's back.

"Severus. You are not a rapist. Not even remotely."

"I doubt Harry will agree with you."

The slightest of smiles flitted over the Headmaster's wise face; Dumbledore, sad as he was to witness Severus's struggle, was pleased that the Potions Master was showing signs of caring for Harry and Harry's feelings.

"Harry chose to consummate the marriage, Severus."

"Chose! CHOSE! He did not have a choice! When has he ever had a choice? He is not even an adult in the Muggle world! And still he reassured me, told me I was not guilty when, Merlin's asshole, I am as guilty as sin!" Severus shouted, sweeping the bowl of lemon drops off Dumbledore's desk. "And do you want to know something else, Albus?"

"Tell me," Dumbledore said calmly.

"I watched him dress after it was over, and I desired him sexually while he put on his clothes. Now tell me that I am not a monster. I bet you won't be able to."

"Harry is a handsome young _man_, Severus: an adult in the Wizarding World and on more levels than on only paper. It is completely natural that you reacted to his charms the way you did. You can see the sexual man in him now. You are not a monster. You are a human being."

Severus stared into the blue eyes, and his dark eyes were suddenly shimmering with tears.

"Then I am not like...Voldemort?"

"You never were, Severus. You are a good man with very low self-esteem. And Harry knows it."

"I don't understand him. I am still waiting for him to scorn me for what happened."

"Harry has not lost faith and hope, Severus. He trusts you. Try and have faith in him, Severus; he will appreciate you for it."

Severus nodded jerkily.

"How is he progressing with Occlumency and Legilimency?" Dumbledore asked after a minute or two, during which Severus regained his composure.

"I have started with Legilimency and will teach him Occlumency afterwards." Severus paused, repaired the bowl of lemon drops, restored the contents to the container and the container to the desk with a series of precise wand flicks. "He shows promise for the first discipline."

The Headmaster smiled.

"I am pleased to hear it. Another thing, Severus. Please do not avoid Harry. You were assiduously ignoring the Gryffindor table this morning, but he was looking at you throughout breakfast."

Severus flushed. The Headmaster smiled again, and the smile seemed to vibrate in the wise blue eyes.

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In the meantime, Harry was sitting in the Gryffindor common room with his best friends. He missed sleeping in the dormitory – the Gryffindors had simply been informed that Harry, after Voldemort's latest attack, had been removed to other quarters for security reasons. Unfortunately, this had the effect of many people avoiding Harry in the corridors, as if he himself was a threat to them.

"No, Harry, no quill and parchment. It's good for you to practise. I am sure Professor Snape would agree," Hermione was saying. Harry frowned as he concentrated. He found it very difficult to transmit his thoughts to two people at the same time, and they were accompanied by so many random whispers, like background noise, that Ron and Hermione had to ask him to "repeat his thoughts" several times.

/Severus feels guilty. He seems to think he's a rapist./

"Well, looking at it from a technical point of view..." Ron said. Hermione rubbed her forehead.

"But that's technical. If you look at the circumstances..."

"And you said that you had to push Snape into...yeah...consummation," Ron remarked.

/He would have died otherwise. He seemed to prefer committing suicide to sleeping with me,/ Harry said, dabbing at his upper lip. Telepathy made him sweat. Hermione looked pensive.

"I think Dumbledore got you married because he knew that Severus would need you, Harry."

/It's the other way around,/ Harry stated.

"No, I don't think so at all. Just because Professor Snape is older and more experienced, it doesn't mean that he doesn't need anyone's help, or that he is automatically superior to everyone else, because he is not. And only you can do it because-"

"-you have this live-saving thingy, yep. But you don't have this martyr-thingy," Ron said.

"No, of course not. Harry and Professor Snape are simply very well matched," Hermione observed.

"Absolutely not!" Ron flared.

"They have a lot more in common than you want them to have," Hermione continued shrewdly.

Ron looked cross.

"But it's like a symbiosis, right? They need each other to survive because of their bond to V-Voldemort."

"I don't think it's a symbiosis. Harry is one of the most determined people I know. If that can't get to Snape, then I don't know what can."

"Try a wand up his ass."

"Don't be vulgar, Ron. He is Harry's husband."

"Yeah. On paper."

"No, it's not just on paper," Hermione said flatly.

/It's not a symbiosis,/ Harry said suddenly. /He can be kind. It's just that his kindness comes over as gruff. It's hard to explain. You'd have to live with him./

"So what is it like living with him? What is _he_ like?"

The three friends snuggled together in front of the fire as Harry told his friends about married life with Snape.

/He is a very private and very interesting person. It's like a mission trying to find out more about him and.../ he scratched his knee and flushed a little, /it's intriguing. Kind of enjoyable. I'm starting to like it./

"And are you starting to like Professor Snape?" Ron asked cleverly.

/There are things I like about him,/ Harry said slowly.

"Well, that's good, then," Ron said soberly. Hermione smiled at both of them.

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	24. Chapter 23

**CHAPTER 23**

A/N: Yikes, sorry about the enormous delay! And no, no, no, this is not and will not be an abandoned story. I am only too familiar with that feeling of deep disappointment when it becomes clear that a story I have been following eagerly has been abandoned.

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_I don't think I ever saw you as flustered as on the day I told you that I considered you sexy. _

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Wandering around Severus's extensive library on a cold November day, Harry flitted between the shelves absent-mindedly. So he had admitted to Rom and Hermione that he liked Severus Snape. He could see Severus naked and aroused, staring at him as he lay on Severus's bed, ready for their consummation. So Severus had been sexually attracted by what he had seen before disgust at the unhappy circumstances had killed his desire, forcing him to take a potion to re-induce and maintain erection... And that scorching look Severus had sent his way afterwards...a look which revealed that it could discern the newly adult man in Harry Potter. Musing about his sexuality, Harry stopped in front of a shelf, drew out his wand and cast a clever book-locating spell Hermione had taught him. Sure enough – the book was included in Severus's collection, and it came zooming towards him as he Summoned it. He caught it gracefully and examined the cover.

_Wizard's Charms_ by R.R., as the author preferred to call themselves, was considered a highly instructive book on wizarding homosexuality.

"May I suggest that you proceed to the contents?" a cashmere voice said behind him. He started and turned around hastily.

Severus was leaning casually against a bookshelf, studying him in a way which sent shivers down Harry's back. He raised a slim left hand and traced his mouth with his forefinger.

"I am interested in your opinion on such a magnum opus," he stated, moving away from Harry and towards the door of the room; he turned on the threshold, directed another piercing gaze at Harry and finally left.

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The next evening found Harry sitting on Severus's favourite sofa, reading the last pages of _Wizard's Charms._ He was tired after class and exasperated that people were still sending compassionate glances his way due to his enforced muteness; he had progressed sufficiently to use basic Telepathy; he could speak in thought to one person for a short time, but he preferred keeping his quill and parchment handy in case he felt dizzy – a sign that he had to stop using Telepathy. In the meantime, Potions lessons were becoming increasingly challenging for reasons he found difficult to admit. True – concocting potions underneath the glowering glare of Severus Tobias Snape was daunting enough...and Severus Tobias Snape happened to be his husband. He had seen the man naked and aroused, for Merlin's sake. Severus ignored Harry most of the time, not commenting on his potions, which were satisfactory enough; however, when Harry looked up from his brewing, he would sometimes find those dark eyes studying him speculatively. They would, on being caught by the green eyes, move on without a flicker, settling on another other target in the room. Hermione and Ron didn't show any signs of noticing these occasional tense glances, but Harry wasn't sure if that was indeed the case; his friends often seemed to be at their most observant when Harry was least aware of it. Harry closed the book with a gentle snap.

"I see that you have finished your reading," Severus's familiar voice said behind him. Harry started to rise, but Severus arrested his movement with a calm hand on his shoulder.

"The sofa," he remarked quietly, "is spacious enough to accommodate two seated parties, apart from the fact that the quality of light is superior in this location."

Severus sat down and looked keenly at his husband's face. Harry returned the gaze with his characteristic determination.

"It is a good opportunity to practice Telepathy," Severus stated, folding his hands in his lap, staring unblinkingly into Harry's eyes. "So, what did you think of the book?"

/It was instructive./

"You are holding back your full opinion, Po-Harry."

/Well...I didn't think I would, er, end up discussing this with you./

Severus raised a mocking eyebrow.

"I am a homosexual wizard, Potter, and so are you. There is absolutely no reason why we should not discuss this topic."

Harry had the impression that Severus was rather enjoying his, Harry's, discomfort.

/Okay. I don't like the concept of ascribing dominant and submissive roles to sexual positions...er...top and bottom.../

"Quite often, a book will outline the mere basics about a topic; but the performance – the acting-out, so to say, the practical part – is dependent on you; and in matters of sex, creativity is essential."

Severus pronounced the word "sex" in such a seductive spine-tingling manner that Harry wanted to moisten his lips; he held back, however, listening to Severus without moving his eyes from the thin pale face. Severus continued to stare into the youth's eyes with scorching intensity.

"I can sense a question in the air. I am interested in hearing it."

Harry, assured by the fact that Severus was talking to him as an equal, without belittling or insulting him, voiced his question:

/Did you have a coming-out?/

Severus watched him closely.

"No. I did not have a coming-out. There were rumours, of course. Lucius Malfoy, in particular, was most anxious to broadcast such rumours about me in order to keep his own reputation unsullied. Yes…" Severus smiled a frosty smile, "Lucius Malfoy, a husband and father, harbours the same proclivities as you and me. A coming-out would have bespattered the whole Malfoy name with disgrace – from his point of view. As for me: I have no family to shame, and my, ah, orientation-" his lip curled with disdain, "is nobody's business."

Harry nodded slowly. Severus raised an eyebrow.

"In any case, people regard me as fittingly asexual, Harry," he said expressionlessly.

/Well, they're wrong,/ Harry observed before he realised what he had just said. There was a penetrating silence, and Severus raised both eyebrows.

"Is that so? May I inquire how come?"

Harry, forgetting his resolution, moistened his lips and answered Severus's gaze steadily.

/I think you're sexy./

There was another deafening silence.

Bright spots of colour emerged in Severus's cheeks.

"You are very frank, although I must admit that I am puzzled about your assessment," he said at last. Harry could not recall seeing the Potions Master so flustered. "How did you arrive at such an unlikely conclusion?"

/Well, apart from having seen you, er, without clothes, you do have a certain...air about you./

"Indeed. You have a point. You did see me with an erection – potion-induced as well as natural."

This time it was Harry's turn to flush.

/I was not really thinking about that. It's more the way you move and speak in certain situations. I live with you now, so I see you every day./

Severus made a brief humming sound, reaching up to absent-mindedly touch the tips of his hair.

"I have never, in all my life, been described as…sexy," he stated, "and if anyone had, I would have hexed off their appendages."

Harry grinned.

"It is said to be quite painful, to say nothing of inconvenient," Severus remarked, catching the grin. Married life with Harry Potter, he decided, was interestingly odd. It was not quite what he had been expecting. No one, apart from the insufferably twinkling Albus Dumbledore, smiled or showed any expression of cheerfulness in his proximity. And here was Harry Potter smiling at what he, of all people, had said.

Severus rose and bent down to Harry, his lips nearly brushing the youth's earlobe:

"Your assessment of my sensual properties is unique. I shall not forget it any time soon."

Then he swept out of the rooms in his trademark manner, robes rustling, his figure tall, intimidating and sexy.

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	25. Chapter 24

**CHAPTER 24**

A/N: Here's the next chapter after yet another long delay! Sorry about that - real life's a nuisance but that I guess that's the point of it being called real life ;-) While I cannot update regularly, there's one thing I can say with complete certainty: this will not end up being an abandoned story. It takes me quite a while to pick up a story where I left it off, so that contributes to the delay. Anyway - here we all go!  
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_It was Remus who made me realise what could possibly develop between you and me. When he visited Hogwarts, I was able to talk to a good and understanding judge of character - someone who preferred to take time when it came to assessing people. _

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Harry's Quidditch robes were splattered with mud. He was Quidditch Captain and had started to sympathise deeply with Oliver Wood's and Angelina Johnson's unrelenting training methods. Ron seemed particularly enthusiastic about impressing Hermione, who was sitting in the stands and watching the team's tryouts with Luna, by means of showing off his Keeping skills. As the soap flowed off his body in the shower, Harry tried to imagine what it would feel like if Severus were to sit in the stands and watch him coach the Gryffindor team... He could still hardly believe that he had told Severus to his face that he considered him sexy. And Severus had flushed with embarrassment. Harry smiled to himself and changed back into his school robes, draping his Quidditch robes over his arm. Back in the dungeons, he gave the wise-eyed Viviane the password and entered his rooms. He was getting used to the fact that Severus's quarters were his quarters as well.

"Being the Head of Slytherin, I am, of course, eager for my House to win the Quidditch Cup. On the other hand, the thought of a husband of mine losing to the opposing team is equally intolerable," Severus's drawling voice greeted him from the fireplace.

/A husband of yours? You've been married before?/ Harry said, grinning.

An contemptuous snort answered him.

"Mr Potter, do I impart the impression of being a suitable marriage candidate?"

Harry eyed him critically.

/There's a lot of untapped potential, Severus./

Severus, deciding that his conversation with Harry was far more interesting than the book he was reading, rose and walked towards his husband.

"You seem to be coming to a number of extremely appalling conclusions where I am concerned, Harry."

/Appealing, not appalling./ The green eyes twinkled at him mischievously.

Severus studied his husband sceptically. It could not be. It was unheard of. People did not _flirt_ with Severus Snape. They just didn't. Not unless they wanted to go the way of the dinosaurs. Then again, Severus had to admit to himself that he had crossed a barrier by accepting Harry's compliment instead of flying into a rage and hexing the young man. He had actually bent down to Harry and whispered right into his ear. He had fucked several people before, but he had never whispered in their ears or experienced actual pleasure with them. What exactly was going on between himself and Harry? His mind hesitated, retreating from both the question and the answer.

Harry nodded at the book Severus was holding absent-mindedly.

/Looks interesting./

"Ah, yes." His nostrils quivered with irritation. "All the fourth-year Hufflepuff boys most unwisely tried to experiment with aphrodisiacs. They have been in a state of priapism for sixteen hours so far. Owing to their embarrassing condition, they were reluctant to seek immediate aid."

Harry bit his lip in order to suppress a wide grin.

"Yes, these little accidents are quite entertaining," Severus agreed dryly, catching the youth's expression.

/Sixteen hours? Can't that result in long-term damage?/

"Madam Pomfrey and I are working on a solution, after which they will hopefully be deflated in body and mind."

Harry's mouth twitched, but he managed to nod seriously. A glint of humour flashed in the Potions Master's eyes and vanished as quickly as it had appeared.

"You have a visitor who is eager to see you, by the way," he remarked impassively. "Lupin is waiting for you in the Headmaster's office. The password is _candy floss_."

Harry's eyes lit up, and the harsh lines on Severus's face deepened as a twinge of jealousy stung his disillusioned heart. He turned his back on Harry and walked into the library, closing the door behind him. Harry's delighted gaze became pensive; he placed his muddy Quidditch robes in his laundry basket and tapped the basket with his wand. The robes disappeared as they were transferred to Hogwarts' enormous laundry room. His eagerness to see Remus Lupin made him run all the way to Dumbledore's office.

_/__Candy floss_,/ he said breathlessly to the gargoyle guarding the entrance.

"No thanks, I prefer dental floss," the gargoyle responded wearily, allowing Harry to pass.

Remus Lupin was looking thin and worn out due to his work for the Order of the Phoenix infiltrating the ranks of the werewolves who were being coaxed into joining Voldemort's ranks. His eyes, however, sparkled when he saw Harry. Dumbledore was standing next to Remus; his phoenix Fawkes, now sporting the beautiful plumage of his adult shape, was sitting calmly on his perch, watching the three wizards with his bright eyes.

"Good afternoon, Harry; I trust you and Severus are enjoying this pleasant November day?"

Harry nodded and smiled. /Yes, thanks./

Dumbledore's blue eyes crinkled with approval.

"Ah, I see that you are making progress in your Legilimency lessons. I am sure you will be an impressive Telepath once you have also mastered Occlumency."

Dumbledore's hint with regard to Occlumency was of course immediately evident to Harry. The Headmaster was asking him, in other words, to make as much of an effort as possible to master Occlumency. Message understood, Harry thought exasperatedly. Dumbledore turned to Remus.

"Well, Remus, that will be all. Look after yourself."

"I will, Albus. Severus greatly alleviates the discomfort of my monthly transformations thanks to the Wolfsbane portion."

He smiled at Harry. "Shall we?"

[] [] []

A little later, the two wizards were strolling around the Hogwarts grounds, Harry listening eagerly to Remus's news.

"Now tell me, Harry: how are you? Are you and Severus happy?"

Harry was silent for a few moments; then he said: /We are getting used to each other, and we are learning to respect each other./

"That is very good to hear. Albus tells me that you saved Severus's life."

Harry bowed his head.

/Severus feels guilty about...er...I mean, he thinks he raped me, because only the consummation of our marriage could save his life, and he had to...yeah.../

"I understand," Remus said. Harry glanced at his face and was relieved to see that Remus was not amused at his embarrassment or what Ron would have called his prude attitude.

/And I felt that no part of me belonged to myself anymore. Somehow, I was something's or someone's possession./

"And Severus possessed you in a way you had never been possessed so far."

Harry nodded slowly.

/Voldemort possessed me in my fifth year...but that was violent. And in this case, the, well, possession had to be done...It was against our wills, but it had to be done. I would have felt like a murderer if I had just...let Severus die like that, and in such pain.../

"What did you feel like afterwards?"

/Confused. I didn't know what to feel or think. I thought that I was coping with it just fine. Or rather...that there was nothing to cope with. That I was just doing what was expected, as was he. Part of the whole deal. I'd just move on and forget about it. And it worked...I didn't feel, you know, traumatised and stuff. Numb, yeah, but I knew that if I hadn't done it, then I would never have been able to live with myself afterwards. But with regard to him, I felt...I feel.../ Harry broke off, then added:

/He was very gentle with me. He made sure I was comfortable and touched me so carefully, and spoke to me so soothingly...He began to treat me with respect afterwards. I was not expecting that. And now...I...I see many attractive things about him./ A fiery blush rose to his face.

Remus smiled warmly, watching Harry's flushed face and the way the youth was playing with the fastenings of his winter cloak.

"You are seeing a side of him you never thought you would see?" he half asked, half stated.

Harry nodded.

"And it confuses you?"

Another nod.

/Hermione said that she thinks we suit each other very well, and Ron asked me if I like him,/ Harry blurted out.

"And what did you answer?"

/I said yes, because, well, I do like him...in a way which is difficult to explain./

"It is very encouraging to hear that the two of you are putting your past differences behind you," Remus observed.

/Yes. Er, I also told him that I find him sexy./

The Marauder-mischievousness sparkled in Remus's eyes.

"What did Severus say?" he asked impishly.

/He was embarrassed, but he accepted the compliment. It just kind of slipped out of me,/ Harry laughed sheepishly.

Remus smiled again. He understood the situation – Harry was starting to fall in love with Severus Snape.

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	26. Chapter 25

**CHAPTER 25**

A/N: Dear all, thanks a million for all your wonderful reviews! I was a bit scared that I'd have no more readers or reviewers after failing to update the story for six months ;-D

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_Fortune can bring people together. So can misfortune._

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"How are you, Severus?" Albus Dumbledore asked the Potions Master, who was sitting the Headmaster's office with a cup of tea. Fawkes was eating macadamia nuts in the background, a glorious image of fiery orange plumage.

"Fine, thank you," was the succinct reply, accompanied by a sharp glance from wary black eyes.

"You certainly look more relaxed. How are things going with Harry?" Dumbledore inquired directly.

Severus was silent for a few moments.

"He finds me, in his own words, _sexy_," he said at last, trying to sound outraged but failing massively. Dumbledore's blue eyes sparkled, and Severus's fingers tightened around the arms of his chair, regretting what he had just said. Nothing was as annoying as that infernal twinkle, especially with a dash of those infamous lemon drops, which Severus suspected were spiked with a Calming Draught.

"He is quite right, my dear boy," the Headmaster remarked. Severus's nostrils flared dangerously.

"Rubbish!"

"Severus, you are too shy sometimes," Dumbledore chuckled. "I sincerely hope you returned the compliment."

"Of course not! But I offered him my indirect thanks."

"Is that all you offered him?"

"Albus, you organised my marriage, but there is no need to meddle with it," Severus snapped, glaring at his teacup.

"A little push every now and then cannot harm you," was the wise response. Severus snorted and sipped his tea.

"You can tell Harry about the Order of the Phoenix now – it's time he knew," Dumbledore continued.

"You baby him too much, Albus. He could and should have been informed from the very start. Do you not think that he will feel betrayed by his friends?"

"I think he'll understand. He has gone through overwhelming ordeals during the past months – foisting Order duties on him would have made him feel like a simple weapon against Voldemort, and nothing more. Now that he is learning how to deal with his muteness, he is ready."

"Naturally. Our marriage has been quite an ordeal for him," Severus remarked sarcastically.

"You are being deliberately hypersensitive, child," Dumbledore chided him.

Severus merely sighed and gulped down his tea, trying to finish it as quickly as possible.

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"Hello, Harry," Luna Lovegood said in her mild voice as Harry re-entered the castle after conversing with Remus.

/Hey, Luna, what's up?/

"Oh, you're progressing nicely with Telepathy," she said happily.

/Yes, Seve – I mean, Snape has been teaching me./

Luna's eyes, dreamy as they were, indicated that Harry's slip-up with Severus's name had not escaped her notice.

"It's nice to see the two of you getting on well," she said, her tone reminiscent of Dumbledore.

/Oh, er, I guess he's too busy to pick on people in general at the moment,/ Harry said hastily, kicking himself mentally. Luna smiled a knowing smile.

"Since you live in the dungeons now, you must be seeing him quite often," she remarked.

/Er, well, I guess so,/ Harry said, turning red. Luna smiled again.

"Have a nice day, Harry – I've got Charms now," she said, tripping away from him lightly as she left for her next class. Harry scratched his neck. It seemed that Severus, too, had charms he was just beginning to see. In fact, life in general seemed unusually kind to both of them at the moment. It could not last – not with Voldemort still out there, mustering his allies. Speaking of which...He was seventeen. He was an adult wizard. Why had no one suggested that he become a member of the Order of the Phoenix? Surely his muteness was no longer such an impediment, seeing that he was advancing steadily in his Legilimency classes? It was already November, and he had turned seventeen in July. And what about Ron and Hermione? They were of age, too. He decided to ask Severus.

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/Am I regarded as a danger or as an impediment to the Order of the Phoenix because I can no longer speak aloud?/ Harry wanted to know when Severus returned from a Potions class, smelling rather pleasantly of liquorice.

Severus studied his young husband cautiously. He had been expecting this question, and now it had arrived, hanging in the air between them, sparkling in Harry's bright green eyes.

"You are both an asset and a danger to the Order. So am I and many others, of course," Severus said finally.

/I am fully are of that. I am of age. Why has no one mentioned my becoming a member?/

"The Headmaster wanted to give you enough time to master the basics of Telepathy. You are sufficiently proficient in Legilimency. But, as you know, you need to be an able Occlumens." His raised his eyebrows slightly. He waited for Harry to scowl or react childishly.

/Then please teach me again – if possible, now./ was the young man's calm answer, accompanied by a flash of determination in those green eyes. Adulthood had brought a certain measure of calm to Harry's personality, but the Gryffindor passion and fire would always be there – and was that such a bad thing? Severus discovered himself thinking.

"I will," Severus answered without mockery, "but I demand absolute attention and the greatest efforts possible."

Harry nodded, holding the penetrating dark gaze steadily.

/Thank you, Severus. You mentioned that Professor Dumbledore had _wanted_ to give me enough time?/

He is becoming shockingly astute, Severus mused. He said aloud:

"Mr Weasley and Miss Granger have been Order members since the school term started. They were asked to keep their initiation into the Order secret from you. I think you are mature enough to understand why the Headmaster asked this favour of them."

/I understand, although I do not approve,/ Harry responded, narrowing his eyes slightly, /but now you have told me./

"Yes."

/With Professor Dumbledore's consent?/

"Indeed. We discussed the matter this morning. I observed that he coddled you too much." He waited again for a burst of immature protests from Harry, but he was greeted with a laugh.

/You are quite right about that, Severus. I wish he would not feed me information in bits and pieces.../

"Indeed," Severus repeated, his eyes lingering on Harry's fresh kissable mouth, on the shaven shadow of adulthood on his cheeks, on the enticing green eyes.

/You were expecting me to blow up at you, weren't you? I know you./

The Potions Master, to his own complete embarrassment, blinked with surprise.

"Your temper can be rather volatile sometimes," he said at last.

/Who's talking,/ was the mischievous reply. Severus knitted his brows in an offended furrow and opened his mouth to retort; a sudden crack followed by Dobby's appearance, interrupted him, however.

"Dobby is very sorry – I mean, I am very sorry for disturbing you," the elf squeaked, "but Professor Dumbledore wants to see you at once; he says that it's an emergency."

He disappeared before either wizard could ask him more questions. Harry and Severus exchanged an uneasy glance before heading for the fireplace, Severus reaching out for the pot of Floo powder.

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	27. Chapter 26

**CHAPTER 26**

A/N: Yikes! Finally I got round to updating this story after a lot of busy-ness, writer's block and other real-life-stuff! Sorry for keeping you waiting for so long...[squirms].

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_The smouldering ruins. The photograph. The night you were closer to me than we had been so far, including the consummation of our bond, because you finally made it clear to me that I was worthy of your trust and respect._

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"Severus," Albus Dumbledore said gravely after offering Harry and Severus seats and lemon drops (they accepted the former and refused the latter), "the Death Eaters destroyed Spinner's End an hour ago. The Aurors have sealed off the area and taken measures to keep curious people away."

Severus was very still. Harry looked confused.

"It was Unplottable, but certain...guests...knew about its whereabouts, and their ringleader knew, of course, how to undo the enchantment," Severus said calmly.

"You do recall my offer with regard to the Fidelius Charm?" Dumbledore half asked, half stated very gently.

"My temper is short but my memory is long, Albus." Fawkes, as if sensing the rising tension in the room, left his perch and landed on Severus's arm. Severus raised his thin hand and ran his tapering fingers through the scarlet plumage with a tenderness which reminded Harry of Severus's palm on his shoulder. He discovered his own hand moving towards the spot, touching it, making it tingle with that strange sad-sweet memory.

"The place," Severus said, taking a deep breath, "was never worth such trouble. It no longer exists. So much the better. My feelings towards it, as you can imagine, were always...uncordial."

"You may want to go there in spite of your reluctance, Severus. I am sure you had valuable belongings in that house, charmed to be invisible to unpleasant guests. I am modest enough to admit that I myself may have been included in that category."

Severus glared at him. Fawkes spread his wings and flew to Harry, landing gracefully on the youth's knee. Harry smiled and scratched the beautiful feathery neck, wishing he could greet the bird aloud. He wondered if animals and Animagi understood Telepathic communication. He considered the current situation too dire to resort to Telepathic experimentation and looked back at Dumbledore, who continued: "I suggest that you take Harry with you, Severus."

"Absolutely not. It is too unsafe. The attack occurred only an hour ago, as you yourself just informed me. In addition, I have no wish to see my spouse meet a fate similar to that of my house," Severus said flatly. His already pale face was white as chalk.

/My Invisibility Cloak will cover us both,/ Harry said to Severus. He turned his head and looked at the Headmaster, repeating the message.

Dumbledore smiled slightly, and his blue eyes moved from Severus's stiff face to Harry, who was radiating stubbornness.

"Several Aurors are watching the premises and will ensure your safety. However, it is an excellent idea to carry the Cloak with you at all times. Do you wish to accompany Severus, Harry?"

Harry nodded immediately.

Severus stared at him incredulously, opening his mouth to protest.

/Please do not argue with me, Severus,/ Harry's voice penetrated his mind obstinately.

Severus, instead of glaring daggers at him and barking out an acerbic remark, gave him a look, which, in its intensity, was passionate and heated.

"Very well," he said at last. Fawkes uttered a musical cry and returned to his perch.

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Severus and Harry gazed at the ruined building which used to be Spinner's End in complete silence. Harry's face was sad. A cloak of impassiveness shielded Severus's gaunt features. Ashes and rubble littered the area. After a few moments, Harry said:

/Severus, I'm so sorry./

"What for? There was never any love or life over here." Severus's voice was brisk and cold.

/It was your home./

Severus turned his head and looked into Harry's eyes.

"It was a prison. These walls have witnessed abuse and neglect. I used to call it Sinner's End." He barked out a harsh laugh. Harry hesitated; then he placed his hand gently on Severus's forearm, bracing himself to be pushed back and shouted at; but Severus exhaled slowly, as if the touch was unfreezing something inside him.

Harry mulled over the similarities in his childhood and Severus's.

"My mother drank herself to death in the bedroom. I was twenty," Severus stated as his dark eyes travelled over the ruins. Harry bowed his head, suffering as Severus suffered.

They stared at the haunted haunting spectacle, Harry's hand still resting on Severus's arm; then he removed it, pointing at something winking in the glow of the hovering orbs of light conjured by the Aurors. These last were within their view; close enough to watch them and far enough to grant them privacy – though one never knew with magic, Harry thought grimly.

A small smile touched Severus's pinched lips. He moved towards the shining object and picked it up, dusting soot and pebbles off its surface. It was a framed photograph, obviously magical to judge from the two animated people waving at the viewer from within the timeless silver frame. Severus held it in such a way that Harry could see it. He watched the young man closely and tensely.

/You knew my mother before you went to Hogwarts?/ Harry asked him calmly.

"Yes. She was the only friend of my late childhood and early adolescence. I wanted power and fame, and I lost her." He stared at Harry penetratingly. "You saw the memory. You witnessed the breach of our friendship. Later, I heard of her marriage to..." a slight pause, "...your father, and then of your birth. Ultimately, she wielded the kind of power the Dark Lord..." another pause, "Voldemort could and can never wield. It was she, through and beyond her death, who guided me away from the trap I had willingly walked into, and back to Hogwarts, my only true home. You are the only other person who can see this picture. I had put a spell on it which renders it invisible to everyone else. I am not sure why the spell did not work on you. Maybe it is because you are Lily's son and the spell recognised the bloodline; or maybe the magical bond you share with me is too strong, too close."

And just maybe, our emotional bond is growing strong as well, Harry's mind whispered. Severus caught the whisper; that tiny brief smile curved his mouth again.

Maybe more than maybe, the smile seemed to say.

They moved around the wreckage and scorched shrubs. The air was very cold, carrying away the stench of burning. Here was a charred page from a book, there a blackened shred of what had probably been the upholstery of an armchair. Harry's heart ached for Severus. Regardless of what he had said about Spinner's End, he had continued to reside within its hated walls after his parents' deaths and during the Hogwarts summer holidays. It had possessed a strong conflicted hold over him. A stranglehold.

/Yes, that is why it is just as well that the Death Eaters burnt it down,/ Severus's voice responded to his reflections. Harry looked at him with a start.

"Occlumency, Potter," the Potions Master reminded him, but he sounded amused instead of irate. He turned his back on the evidence of Spinner's End's end. Yes, the place was the embodiment of death and disaster, but Harry was with him, those green eyes strangely seductive in the magical light. Indeed, Severus mused, Harry was developing that keen unsettling look of the skilled Legilimens.

Ah, you could have your way with me in bed or in any other location if you wished, Harry Potter, a loud impudent voice prodded Severus, who flushed and turned his face away abruptly to hide his acute embarrassment.

"There is nothing more for us to do over here," he said, tucking the picture of himself and Lily Evans into his robes, ashamed of his desire for Harry.

/Then let us go home to Hogwarts, Severus,/ Harry said, and those handsome features made the longing in the pit of Severus's stomach scorch his insides to a blackened ruin like his house. He stood frozen, staring into nothingness, suddenly exhausted; and it was Harry who Apparated them back to the edge of the Hogwarts grounds under the shelter of the Invisibility Cloak, his arm around Severus's waist.

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	28. Chapter 27

**CHAPTER 27**

A/N: Dear all, thank you so much for reading and reviewing this chapter – I wasn't sure anyone would still do so after such a huge hiatus [looks guilty].

Some of you have asked for a brief summary of the preceding chapters because of the aforementioned hiatus.

So here we go: Voldemort curses Harry Potter with the result that Harry loses his voice. Due to their links to Voldemort via Harry's scar and Severus's Dark Mark, and, moreover, the link to each other via Harry owing several life debts to Severus, Dumbledore decides that the power to defeat Voldemort lies in marrying Harry and Severus to each other. Harry, numbed by blow after blow in his young life, takes the decision with resignation. Severus, furious and bitter, promptly sleeps with someone else after the wedding ceremony and treats Harry shabbily. He is reluctant to teach him the art of Telepathy, which will, to a certain extent, substitute Harry's loss of his physical voice. Voldemort, aware of Severus's double-agent role, tries to kill Severus as slowly and painfully as possible via the latter's Dark Mark. Much to Severus's horror, temporary relief from pain is triggered by Harry touching him, and the permanent cure consists of consummating their marriage. Severus refuses to perform intercourse with Harry, preferring death to what he regards as raping Harry. Harry, however, is equally stubborn and practically forces Severus into choosing life over death, leading to the consummation of their bond. Severus is very gentle with Harry during the act but is overwhelmed by guilt afterwards. Feeling mentally raped, he finally unravels in front of Dumbledore, who assures him that he is not like Voldemort and encourages him to trust Harry and view him an adult young man.

Slowly, the two wizards start to respect and trust each other, and their growing relationship is strengthened when Severus's home Spinner's End is torched by the revengeful Death Eaters and Severus reveals that Harry's mother and he were childhood friends.

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_I was outwardly calm, but my head was spinning. So you and my mother had been friends as children and early teens. Yes, I could understand the conflict you were suffering, hating my father and loving my mother. I understood, but I was angry with you for being so determined to hate me and judge me as soon as I arrived at Hogwarts. You didn't want to give me a chance, not even during my fifth year, and not even for the sake of the friendship you used to share with my mother...until we were married, and I could prove my mettle. When I woke up the next day, I felt anger. When would you trust me? _

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Back in the warmth of their rooms, Severus pulled out the photograph carefully and gazed at it fixedly.

"We were like brother and sister. I did not realise what I lost by rejecting her friendship and kindness until it was too late. Love...Life...I never had those things, but she gave them to me," he said half to himself, half to Harry, who was standing next to him.

/I should have guessed that you were friends before...what I saw in the memory,/ Harry remarked cautiously.

"Why?" Severus asked.

/Because you are usually silent about the people who are important to you./

A grim smile appeared on Severus's thin face, and he uttered a low laugh. "If you can fully master Occlumency, then your Telepathic skills should be quite satisfactory."

Harry smiled too, recognising and acknowledging the hidden compliment delivered in that typical Snapeish style. After a few moments of silence, Harry gestured at the mantelpiece.

/I think the picture would look very nice over there,/ he said. His voice sounded blurred and faint in Severus's mind, and he realised that the event had drained Harry as much as it had drained him; but he understood the message and its true import. Harry was telling him gently that he did not have to confine the memory of a cherished moment to a dusty dark closet or drawer, that he was glad instead of being aghast about Severus's friendship with his mother. He moved towards the mantelpiece and reverently placed the silver frame on the polished surface. There they were, Lily and Severus, waving innocently and happily, and the picture had been taken a friendly elderly woman, and the camera had belonged to Lily's parents, and...Severus passed his hand over his eyes. So many memories were caught in that photograph.

He sighed and turned towards his bedroom. Harry remained in the hall. He smiled at the picture, waved at his mother and husband and slowly walked back to his room.

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"They were _friends_?" Ron said, starting at Harry with round eyes.

Harry nodded.

"But how come no one told you or told us? I mean...Sirius, Remus, Hagrid, even Dumbledore, so many of them...they were all at school together, they must have noticed that they were friends. A Gryffindor and a Slytherin being friends – that's got to stand out, right?"

Hermione, who was sitting next to Ron with one hand on Ron's knee, chewed her lip thoughtfully, frowning. "Maybe Snape or Dumbledore asked people to be silent about it. It was common knowledge that Snape disliked your father, Harry, so it must have been equally common knowledge that he got on well with your mom. Unless they kept their friendship a secret? But how?"

Harry got up abruptly and rapped his fist against the wall.

/All these damned conspiracies!/

Hermione winced and Ron rubbed his forehead, exclaiming: "Ow! That was loud, Harry. Like, really loud! My head is ringing!"

/Sorry about that. Still have a lot to learn. Anyway, you can't keep anything secret from Dumbledore./

"Hang on, that's not true. He didn't know about the Marauders being able to transform into Animagi."

"Ah, he _said_ that he didn't know," Hermione pointed out. "It doesn't mean that he didn't actually know."

Ron snorted. "It wouldn't surprise me. You know, Dumbledore would make an excellent politician."

/He is already a politician,/ Harry said, feeling a sudden spark of anger. How long had it been since he had felt such fire inside of him? And now he was feeling angry with Severus, too.

/Would I have ever found out that he and my mom were friends if Spinner's End hadn't been torched?/

There was silence in the Gryffindor common room. Harry glared out of the window. Somehow it felt good to be angry, to stop being numb, to explode for once.

/I'm going to ask him myself,/ Harry said finally.

Hermione and Ron exchanged a meaningful look.

"Maybe you had better, Harry. It will be good for your bond," Hermione said.

"Now _you_ are starting to sound like Dumbledore," Ron said dryly.

"Thanks for the compliment," Hermione beamed. Ron and Harry snorted.

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"Harry Potter, something is bothering you," Luna's mild factual voice said as Harry left the Great Hall after lunch.

/What? Oh, hi Luna. Just got a lot on my mind./

"You don't need to write anymore?"

/No. Professor Snape is teaching me well./

Luna smiled a knowing smile.

/Luna, are you...okay? I mean, after the kidnapping./

"Yes, I'm fine. I was unharmed, wasn't I? See you around later, Harry, and take care." She waved at him and left, humming to herself. Was there nothing at all which could make her lose control, make her rage, make her scream? Harry wondered. He longed for her serenity in the worst of situations. He drew a deep breath. He would need to be calm if he wanted to broach the subject of his mother with Severus.

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/Would you have told me about your friendship with my mother if your house hadn't been burnt? /

Severus looked at Harry for a long moment.

"I don't know." He sounded reluctant to admit that there was something he didn't know.

Harry held his gaze firmly.

/Why didn't you tell me?/

"Because I didn't want to, Potter."

/Why not?/

Severus laughed harshly. He braced himself to hurt Harry, to prevent him from breaking through the defensive shields he had placed around his feelings.

"Because I hated you and always will."

Silence. Harry had gone pale. His hands were clenched by his sides.

/I don't believe you. I don't believe that you still hate me./

Severus felt his self-control wobble.

"Believe what you wish."

/Didn't you do that, and didn't you misjudge me as a result?/

Green eyes and black eyes narrowed, smouldering. Harry stepped boldly towards Severus.

/When will you trust me?/

Another gap of silence ensued, bridged by their scorching stare. Severus recalled Dumbledore's words. He recalled how Harry had saved his life. How he had been there with him and for him at the ruins of his house. And it was Harry who had Apparated them away from the site of destruction, away and back to their home at Hogwarts.

"I trust you." The words sounded abrupt. But they were true.

/And I trust you. But do you always have to wait for something drastic to happen before you confide in me?/

Severus looked down his nose at his young husband with such offended hauteur that Harry suddenly felt like smiling.

"Mr Potter-"

/Mr Potter-Snape. Or Harry./

Severus glared at him.

"You expect me to trust you after breaking into my memories?"

/That was a long time ago, and you accepted my apology. We have had a long history of distrust towards each other, and I would like to think that that has changed now./

The youth set his jaw and gave him such flaming glare that he was strongly reminded of Lily Evans. Her son had certainly inherited her spirited disposition and stubbornness. He had given Severus his body in the most intimate way possible in order to save Severus's life. People of Harry's age dreamt of candlelit rooms with romantic music in the background and a caring partner who gifted them with an unforgettable first time, the kind people read about in cheap novels and saw in even worse movies.

"Yes, I trust you," Severus repeated slowly. He raised his hand and brushed Harry's cheek in a spontaneous gesture which horrified his own self. Why in the name of Merlin's left tattooed buttock did Harry have to look so sensual as he stood there gazing determinedly at Severus? The Potions Master, so used to order and control in his life, tried to thrust away such inappropriate thoughts into the dustiest chamber of his mind. He lowered his hand, gave Harry a curt nod and moved away to his Potions Laboratory. He tried to tell himself that his increased pulse rate was the result of looking forward to brewing a batch of perfectly ordinary Pepper-Up Potion for Madam Pomfrey's stores.  
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	29. Chapter 28

**CHAPTER 28**

_When did I realise the depth of my feelings for you, Severus? When did I understand that I was finding joy in my marriage with you – the kind of joy I experienced in my friendship with Ron and Hermione, or my ties with Ron's family, or that uplifting pleasure I discovered when flying on my broom, the wind rushing through my hair, the world unfolding below me and disclosing the quiet beauty of nature? You pushed me hard during our Telepathy sessions, and pushed me even harder when you finally resumed my failed fifth-year Occlumency lessons. _

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Harry rubbed his forehead. He had managed to push Severus out of his mind – which was just as well, because Severus had ventured dangerously close to the consummation of their marriage. Harry knew that this act had inflicted a deep wound upon Severus's soul. Only recently, Severus had stumbled across that fateful scene in Harry's mind during their lessons. He had turned deathly pale, clenched his hands and given up his attack before Harry could draw up his Occlumentic shields. Thanks to years of spying and acting experience, he had managed to snap back his control in a matter of seconds and proceed with the next attack. However, he had to admit that he was experiencing difficulties with Occluding his mind against Harry; they now combined Legilimency with Occlumency, and it was a novelty for Severus to find his Occlumentic barriers swaying around him – he, who had Occluded Voldemort so successfully time after time, maintaining the semblance of a devoted Death Eater even under the gruelling effects of the Cruciatus curse! And yet, each time he looked into those fiery green eyes which spoke more to him than words did, his heartbeat would feel like a Hippogriff running riot in Hagrid's pen.

"You did quite satisfactorily for today," Severus said, succumbing to his habitual reluctance to openly praise anyone, "we can descend to our rooms now, and you should be in time for your Transfigurations class with my colleague."

After a particularly complicated Transfigurations session, Harry, wearing his favourite blue jeans and one of Molly Weasley's jumpers, wandered around Severus's enormous library, feeling perfectly at ease near his husband's highly valued possessions. It was a chilly December day, and the library was homely with its glowing lights, smell of old paper and quiet printed occupants tucked away on their shelves. Severus, in his silent manner, had made it clear that his rooms were Harry's rooms as well, except perhaps for the Potions room, which was more than merely a workplace or a sanctum; it was a part of his mind's landscape, an area where his brilliant logic and creativity worked together in perfect harmony.

He no longer abruptly quit the library when Harry entered the room. On the contrary: Harry could have sworn that Severus liked his company, regardless of whether he was silent or communicating with him. It gave him a warm glowing feeling; and it was starting to become a custom for Severus to push a chair towards Harry with a non-verbal spell, thus encouraging Harry to share the same table with him and simultaneously sparing himself the embarrassment of extending a verbal invitation.

Harry longed to invite his friends over as often as he could; but, as Severus warned him, this would seem highly suspicious, especially to the Slytherins whose common room was in the dungeons. As it is, people were wondering about Harry's exact whereabouts away from Gryffindor Tower, and there had been several attempts to follow him. Harry now wore his Invisibility Cloak on his way to and from their rooms, much to Severus's approval.

Awed, Harry moved from shelf to shelf. Severus – trust the man's contradictory nature! – seemed to appreciate Muggle literature. Harry stopped in front of a shelf containing literature about the Second World War. Slowly, he stretched out his hand and carefully extracted a book. He opened it slowly and sat down on the wooden floor, reading. The Dursleys had never talked about Muggle history; but it had been discussed at Muggle school, and he had wanted to know more, had asked Aunt Pentunia, who had stared down her nose at him and then ignored him, had wondered why the most human thing about human beings so often seemed to be their inhumanity. Here then, was material on one of the most shameful events of human history, and the parallels to Voldemort's politics were sickeningly familiar. This is the kind of madman I have to defeat, he thought. His cheeks were wet as he grieved for those who had suffered such monstrous injustices. There would always be people who were evil beyond description; and when one fell, another would rise in his place. The book slid out of his hands.

He felt a gentle touch on his shoulder.

"I know what you are thinking," Severus's voice said. Harry looked up; and Severus saw that although the youth was an adult man according to Wizarding law and his unique circumstances, he was only seventeen; his childhood had been locked away in the Dursleys' closet, and his youth and early adulthood were oriented towards one goal: defeating Voldemort and dying in the attempt. No! Not if I have something to say about it, a voice raged in Severus's mind. Harry was looking at him with those passionate green eyes.

"Tyrants have always drawn inspiration from each other," he said. His face hardened, and his voice became harsh. "A bitter lesson I learnt when it was almost too late."

He studied Harry's face closely. "And yet, hope can be found in the unlikeliest of places and people. Hope, and trust." His tone was somewhat abrupt. Severus had always felt uncomfortable talking about personal matters or feelings; but Harry, like Albus Dumbledore, possessed that knack of drawing forth secrets by simply listening quietly with a too-wise look in his eyes. Like Lily, Severus thought, and his heart hurt.

/I cannot stand this, Severus. Why does this happen?/ Harry was digging his teeth into his bottom lip.

Severus bowed his head and sighed – a gesture which would have been unthinkable a few months ago; and for the second time, he admitted to his husband: "I don't know, Harry."

They looked at each other for a long moment, and it seemed to them that they had only each other; Dumbledore, Hermione, Ron – friends and Order members were suddenly far away, and Voldemort was closing in upon them, grasping for power and the world. Harry echoed Severus's sigh, stepped up to him and put his arms around the tall figure. Severus was numbed with surprise for a few milliseconds; then he responded to the embrace, sensing Harry's desperation and feeling it himself; and it was just the two of them, and they had the drowning feeling of standing in the middle of wars past and future. You saved my life, Harry Potter, Severus reflected fiercely, trying to steady himself and regain his composure, and now I have to do something with this life. You are part of my life, and I am part of yours. This is our life. And even as the thought flashed through his mind, something seemed to give way in the magical barrier shielding his musings, granting Harry access, allowing him to capture said thought. Harry smiled, and Severus realised that their Legilimency sessions and Harry's enormous progress with Telepathy had linked their minds together in an inextricable fashion – just like with himself and Dumbledore; but there was more to their bond than a purely magical connection, of course. No, Severus tried to tell himself sharply, this is a marriage of convenience. Nothing more, and nothing less. His attempt failed. How could it succeed when Harry was so warm against his body, holding him and being held, his hair brushing Severus's gaunt cheek? And alas, why was this accursed desire creeping up on him again, why did he long to remove those blue jeans and that thick jumper and seduce him away to bed?

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	30. Chapter 29

**CHAPTER 29**

_Severus, do you know how difficult it is to concentrate on Occlumency when one's heart is beating wildly and one is as scared as a crup facing a Hungarian Horntail in case certain feelings are found out? We had a strong bond by now, and the longer I lived with you, the more sexy things I discovered about you. Your hands. Your way of walking and talking. Merlin's right nipple ring, even your way of reading, the calf of one leg supported casually by the knee of your other leg, the peace upon your face, your lips no longer grim and compressed, your fingers slowly travelling through the pages...And the way you'd suddenly look up from your book, looking at me, looking right into my eyes...touching me with that unique gaze of yours. _

_I wondered what kissing you would feel like. But you got there first. _

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Harry entered his and Severus's rooms with his Quidditch robes covered in mud and rain. The Gryffindor team had started very well with Harry as Quidditch Captain, winning against Slytherin in November. Severus had maintained a rigid silence around his quietly triumphant husband after the match, but in the hearts of his hearts, he had felt a flash of pride for Harry - something he was horrified to notice. A Slytherin proud of a Gryffindor? Of James Potter's offspring? Then he had thought of Lily and of the fact that Harry was his own person. A delightful young man, actually. Severus looked up from his musings and his book, his dark eyes sliding down Harry's lithe figure as the youth removed his robes, revealing a green T-shirt underneath them. He ground his teeth. The guilt over the consummation of their bond still burdened him - all the more because he longed to undress Harry and seduce him with all the skill and passion at his disposal. A willing Harry enjoying every move, every drop of sweat, every thrust - No! Severus dug his fingers into the cover of his book and wrenched his gaze away, letting his hair slide forward and obscure his burning face. Harry's powerful Telepathic greeting reached him - damn him! Already he no longer required eye contact and could interact with several people at the same time. It was a rare and wonderful ability.

/What are you reading, Severus?/

Ah! What a long way they had both come, to the extent that they could feel at ease in each other's presence...except when Severus was disrobing Harry with his eyes and in his mind...

Severus felt himself gesture towards Harry, inviting him to sit next to him.

"A book which I think will be useful for a blossoming Telepath like you."

Harry flushed with pleasure, aware of the subtle praise. Severus looked at him sternly.

"We still have a lot of work to do. Your Occlumency is still not stable enough, and you need far more stamina."

How much stamina would he have in my bed? The thought nearly made Severus choke. He who had gone around blasting rose bushes apart in order to prevent teenage pregnancies and spoil young people's exploration of emotional rollercoaster rides and sticky underwear (that is, if they wore any underwear at all nowadays, the rebellious brash brats!), was he really thinking such filthy thoughts?

Harry was sitting next to him now, his cheeks still glowing. He carefully received the book which Severus handed over to him – minus the stinging reminder to treat the book like a precious gem. He is seventeen, after all. A man, Severus mused. Of course their fingers brushed in that clichéd moment all hopeless romantics raved about in books and films. It shocked Severus that there was a grain of truth in this particular cliché and the reports of its grossly exaggerated effects. The part of his skin which had touched Harry's tingled. The little group of nerve endings, not content with handling the disturbance on its own, impudently transmitted the signals until all his nerve endings were singing raucously, triggering an odd little shiver which ran down his back and – ye gods! – down his groin and between his thighs, lingering there and then racing down to his very toes. Ridiculous! His eyes caught Harry's.

/Thank you very much, Severus./

"You're welcome, Harry."

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Severus wandered around the halls of Hogwarts restlessly. It was three o'clock in the morning. He had not been able to sleep and had finally abandoned his thoughts of sleep and his bed, throwing on his robe and cloak and gliding silently out of his room. Stealth was second nature to him after all his years of spying; yet his heartbeat had spiked and his foot had hesitated while passing the door which led to Harry's mini-suite. He had been tempted to check in on his husband, to watch his repose, bend over him and kiss him anywhere on his face except on the mouth...He had discarded the idea, of course. He finally climbed up to the Astronomy Tower, which was blissfully empty of clichéd teenage couples snogging and groping each other (with or without underwear), and stared up into the sky, stared and stared and stared and thought about his marriage with Harry and Harry himself. Harry James Potter-Snape. Merlin knew how and why the youth, despite his despicable Muggle relatives and the burdens life and death had flung at him, had been able to retain that beautiful nature of his. Silently and slowly, Harry was deconstructing all the spiteful things Severus had constructed about his, Harry's, personality, just so that he, Severus, would have a solid excuse to hate Harry for all eternity. Harry had saved Severus's life. Severus's felt a spasm constrict his lips. If he had to place his worst memory inside the Pensieve again, it would undoubtedly be the one of consummating his bond with Harry. And yet...Severus, instead of loathing and despising Harry for owing him a life debt, discovered himself in awe of Harry's unwavering loyalty. The fact was a strange bright star, warm and shining as its brethren in the night sky above him. Yes, it was strange that he could find hope and healing as Voldemort rose in power, mustering the most evil forces at his disposal. A sense of tranquillity enveloped Severus; he made his way back to the dungeons.

Viviane and her niece, Morgana, were conversing softly in Morgana's portrait when he reached his quarters.

"I think you will sleep well now," Viviane greeted him with a wise smile. She reminded him disconcertingly of Dumbledore. No wonder – she had been a powerful priestess in her lifetime according to Wizarding Arthurian legend. Morgana nodded.

"Indeed, aunt; and I think his sleep will improve quite remarkably if he bonds beds with his husband as well."

Viviane slid a fine-boned hand over her mouth to hide a distinctly mischievous smile, and Morgana's bird-bright eyes twinkled. Severus glared at them and said the password; but their words resounded in his ears as he entered his rooms, and he stopped again in front of Harry's door. It was as if something was calling to him, beckoning him inside. Well. He was a Slytherin, and the Head of that cunning house. His skills in stealth could always use a brush-up regardless of the time indicated by the clock.

He did not feel like he was invading Harry's privacy when all he wanted to do was just look at his sleeping husband. In fact, the door was slightly ajar. Why? Severus wondered; but he decided to accept this circumstance as a facilitating factor in his spontaneous task, and entered the room. He moved towards Harry's bed and cast a very gentle non-verbal Lumos spell, holding out his wand. His breath caught in his throat.

Harry was lying on his back, one arm flung up next to his head and the other resting on his chest. His face was exquisite in repose; the contours of his face managed to be firm and delicate at the same time; his lips were slightly parted, and the abundant eyelashes were thick and black underneath the firm eyebrows. His scar was hidden by that infamous eternally messy hair. His earlobes looked like they would be a treat to nibble and nip at in the throes of intimacy. Severus watched Harry for a long time. The rise and fall of that sturdy young chest was hypnotising, as was the soft sound of his breathing. Two foes were fighting within Severus's own chest: cynicism and hope. The former observed loudly and waspishly that he, Severus, was a fool, lusting over a teenager who had no reason to love him and every reason to loathe him. The latter reminded Severus of the embrace Harry had initiated in the library, of all the steps both of them had taken in their relationship, of the promising path ahead of them if they continued working on their bond. Severus bent over his husband. The kiss he bestowed on Harry's forehead was quick and soft. He automatically straightened the corner of Harry's duvet in accordance with his meticulous neat nature and slipped away to his own bed.

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Harry sat up in bed when he heard Severus leave his room. He inhaled sharply, touched his hand to his forehead and lowered it, curling his fingers as if to cradle the kiss his husband had given him a few minutes ago. It had been very difficult to pretend to be asleep when Severus had approached his bed; he had raised his Occlumentic shields and concentrated on his breathing. Fortunately, breathing technique was something they were working upon in his lessons, and it had been of invaluable assistance in this case. An embrace, and now a secret kiss. He wondered if he should tell Hermione and Ron about it or keep this little gem all to himself. Unless...He thought of Remus Lupin. Remus would be visiting Hogwarts before Christmas. Harry grinned, and his cheeks warmed up. He could not help feeling like an airy-headed teenager.

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	31. Chapter 30

**CHAPTER 30**

A/N: Thank you so much for your wonderful reviews! Also, thanks a lot for the constructive criticism – the long hiatuses I took have made my plotting and writing go rusty in places; and one thing I am especially anxious to avoid is overdosing on the fluffiness and sappiness ;-) This has been the case with my previous Snarries, and one of the reasons why I'm so slow with updating this Snarry is that I'm afraid of flooding the text with too much soppy "sugariness".

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_The Christmas season was on its way; people were looking forward to going home and spending time with their families – all the more so in a time darkened by Voldemort's plotting and scheming. It was becoming vital to stick together with one's loved ones and maybe even forge alliances with people one disliked but who had that one important thing in common with oneself: standing up to Voldemort and resisting him._

_There was something else in on my mind besides Voldemort, Christmas and NEWT classes. How were you and I going to spend Christmas together? How would we celebrate? Christmas is family time. And you, together with the Weasleys and my closest friends, were family. My husband. Your kiss seemed to glow on my forehead. When I woke up a few hours later after you entered my room at night, I wished that my "famous" scar was invisible and your kiss visible. I thought of _The Wizard of Oz_ and how the kind Witch of the North had marked Dorothy's forehead with her protective kiss. _

_I can still hear the slight rustle of your robes as you bent over me, the brush of your hair against my ear, your inhaled breath and the softest feathery click of your lips against my skin. And I was determined to kiss you back. But how? _

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Harry sauntered away from Hagrid's hut with Ron and Hermione, massaging his fudge-and-tea-filled stomach.

/I'm going to miss him,/ Harry said pensively. Hagrid and Madame Maxime had to leave for another mission to negotiate with the giants. /I often think back to the moment he told me I was a wizard. It still feels like a dream sometimes./

"And how does your marriage to Snape feel like now?" Ron wanted to know, his breath trailing steam in the wintry air. Harry could not help blushing.

/It feels...good. We're both working on our bond, and he's trying hard. He's tough and rough and gruff around the edges, but if you go beyond those edges, then there are tons of things to discover he himself isn't aware of./

"And I bet that when you point them out to him, he gets all tough and rough and gruff all over again, right?"

Harry laughed and fiddled with his muffler. /Yeah. It's part of his charm. He nearly gets flustered, actually. Want to come back with me to the dungeons? There won't be many people around there at this time, and we'll be using the other way as usual, although Severus is paranoid about even that."

"We've all got to be paranoid in these times," Hermione said softly.

"But a bit of laughter and fun can't hurt," Ron pointed out and gave Hermione a quick peck on the mouth. She chuckled in agreement and held Ron's hand, swinging their joined arms back and forth as they trudged back to the castle through the snow.

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Severus was reading by the fireside when the trio entered through Viviane's portrait from the second entrance to the couple's quarters.

"Miss Granger. Mr Weasley," he said by way of greeting, at the same offering a characteristic curt nod. "Sit down – if you wish, that is. I am aware that my formidable company can have intimidating effects."

Hermione and Ron's visits had been confined to Harry's room so far, and this was the first time Severus had deigned to dignify their presence with his active attendance.

Ron's ears had gone red; he was no doubt recalling the angry words he had flung at Severus on the day of the wedding ceremony.

"Thank you, sir," he said in cautious unison with Hermione. Severus gestured somewhat abruptly at the sofa opposite his chair and closed his book, marking the page in advance with its tasselled bookmark. Harry smiled at him warmly, knowing how much effort this was costing his husband and his hermit ways.

"Tea?" was the next abrupt question.

"Yes, please!" the two Gryffindors uttered in unison again. Severus snorted softly.

"Worse than your twin brothers," he commented, nodding at Ron.

"It's the telepathy of love, er, sir," Ron replied crisply, clasping Hermione's hand.

"Indeed," Severus said, summoning a house elf to bring them tea. There was a small awkward silence. Hermione interrupted it bravely.

"Ron, didn't you say once that you'd like to beat Professor Snape at chess?"

It worked – or rather, Severus decided to deliberately reciprocate Hermione's determined attempt at conversation.

"Miss Granger, I am surmising that _you_ did not plant such a brash idea in your partner's head."

"Me? It was your husband!" She nudged Harry.

/Guilty as charged,/ Harry grinned, his green eyes shining. Severus watched the thick black lashes dip downwards and flick up again.

Severus's eyes gleamed, and within a few minutes, his chessboard was standing on the coffee table. Hermione and Harry were shooed away by their respective partners and they moved to the library, where Hermione attempted to read some of the old French books Severus kept in his collection.

/I wish I knew French. Hardly learnt anything during the Triwizard Tournament, unfortunately./

"Just as well, wouldn't want you to succumb to the charms of a Veela," Hermione said snootily, and Harry could tell that she was thinking of Ron's one-time crush on Fleur.

/Ah, no, definitely not, 'Mione./

Hermione turned and gave him a this-is-the-right-moment-for-a-heart-to-heart-talk look. She was truly brilliant, Harry thought with a mixture of exasperation and admiration.

"So," she said slowly, smiling softly. "I know Ron asked you some time ago whether you liked Professor Snape – Severus. Liking him as in fancying him. What's your verdict now?"

/Yes. I do, er, like him. He is so...infuriating at times, and yet he's so...so...alluring. I never thought I'd see the day he'd invite Ron for a round of chess./

"I think it's safe to state that he finds you alluring too," Hermione stated. Harry chewed his lip.

/He'll push me away if I try to...get closer. And if that happens, everything we've worked on so far will be undone. The bond we've got now, it will all go to the dogs./ He hesitated, wondering if he should tell her about Severus's kiss on his forehead, but it seemed too precious, too intimate, too private to share with her and Ron just yet.

"That's probably exactly what he's thinking," Hermione said. "You do have a lot in common, you know. In a good way."

/How can our marriage stand a chance in the face of impending war, Hermione?"

"Maybe you should formulate it differently: how will the war stand a chance against your marriage?"

/You're so darn optimistic it's scary, Hermione./

"Harry, Voldemort will not win. Life is a matter of winning and losing, and sometimes it's fair, and sometimes it isn't. And this time, _we_ will win." She put her hands on her hips and glared at him. "That is what we are working for."

/Yes. And that is why our marriage won't stand a chance. It's just a tool. A means to a purpose. Dumbledore's plan. Just a plan. / He dug his nails into his palms and dropped his eyes. The thought hurt. It hurt a lot. Hermione strode towards him and grabbed his hands.

"Dumbledore is so clever he's almost insane. I think he knew that you two would grow to care about each other like this. That..." she took a deep breath, "you would love each other."

Harry went red.

/He'll never allow me to...to...love him. He'll push me away. He'll remind me that this is a marriage of convenience, doomed to death or divorce, depending on the outcome of the war./

"Then give me a good reason why I've got a teacup and why Ron is playing chess with him. Harry, he's doing it for you. Because he knows that we're best friends and he wants to make you happy. He cares for you. Oh, and I saw the picture of himself and your Mom on the mantelpiece."

/Caring...respecting...yes. But that's different from love. Romantic sexual love./

"Of course there are a million ways of caring and loving, and they're all narrowed down to the act of shagging by the media – don't look so startled, Harry, I am an adult Gryffindor woman. But in your case, there's a lot of sexual chemistry going on between you two, and more besides. I bet Ron will say the same after he beats your husband at chess."

/Er – is it that obvious?/

"Don't worry. Only to those who know you very well. I feel like that myself when I'm around Ron."

/That's quite obvious and necessary,/ Harry snorted.

"Ha! You just sounded like _him_!"

/Yeah, okay, so how do I seduce him?/ Harry asked, speaking half to himself, half to Hermione as he remembered how Severus had held him and been there for him in this very room.

Hermione raised her eyebrows.

"Honestly, Harry. Christmas is approaching. Get Severus to participate. It should be quite possible."

/Hermione, you sound quite wily!/

"Oh, you know, you automatically discover a tiny bit of your manipulative side when you're in a relationship. You need to know which buttons to press when...and allow your buttons to be pressed, too. It's give and take," she confided playfully. Harry laughed and sipped his tea. It was the kind Severus knew he liked, spiced with liquorice and cinnamon. The fact that Severus knew which tea he preferred and had ordered it for Harry had to mean something. It very probably meant that Hermione was right. As usual, of course.

When Ron joined them in the library – sans Severus, who had retired to his Potions laboratory after such exhausting socialising – it was to announce triumphantly that he had won. Harry knew that Ron was an outstanding chess player. But so was Severus. It was impossible to tell whether Severus had altruistically let Ron win or genuinely lost to him.

"I can't believe I just played chess with _Snape_! Wow, mate, I think your husband's got a thing for you," Ron commented to Harry. Hermione looked victorious and Harry scratched his neck, trying not to turn as red as a rooster's comb.

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	32. Chapter 31

**CHAPTER 31**

_When I received my Christmas invitation from the Weasleys and you received one as well, I was delighted. I thought we'd celebrate together, all of us. My whole family would be together and united. Ideal Gryffindorism from your point of view, of course. You didn't want to participate. You didn't want to say so at first, but I could tell. And then Remus came down to the castle, and it felt good to have an experienced adult to confide in and someone who knew and respected both of us. _

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Severus glanced at Harry, who was beaming over his letter from Molly Weasley. He, too, had received an invitation to celebrate Christmas at Grimmauld Place with the Weasley family and several Order members.

/You'll be there, won't you, Severus?/ Harry asked him, looking up from the letter. Severus's long fingers scuffed the parchment edgily.

"I will think about it."

/Severus, you do know that you are most welcome-/

"I said that I would think about it, Harry." Severus's voice was terse. Harry gave him a long searching gaze before nodding and folding up his letter carefully. Severus rose and sought refuge in the brewing of a highly complicated experimental potion. If successful, it would be an enormous improvement over the Wolfsbane Potion, a triumph and masterpiece of research and Potions skill: it suppressed the excruciating transformation into a wolf altogether and had the benefit of being storable in a cool place for two months. The side effects, however, could cause significant stress on the cardiovascular system, among other things. While brewing, he found himself musing about Remus Lupin. The man, while he had never stood up for Severus (and why would he have done so, Severus thought with a curl of his lip), had refrained from bullying Severus like the good diplomat he was. Yes, Lupin with his mild ways and forgiving nature would have been the ideal spouse for Harry Potter, if Harry did indeed prefer men of his parents' generation (Severus actually grimaced when he recalled that they had all gone to school together at the same age). Except that Lupin was straight as a lamppost and currently enjoying his new relationship with Nymphadora Tonks. As Severus stirred the potion, he finally allowed himself to think of the grinding pain which accompanied Remus's monthly transformations. He himself had been the recipient of several Crucios; the transformation very probably felt like receiving those Crucios at the same time. You see, you do have things in common with Harry and the people closest to him. You understand what pain is, Severus told himself. It was a new and strange way of thinking for him. He usually focused on the differences, on the irreconcilable traits in people with the aim of being able to justify his self-imposed isolation. In his mind's eye, he could see the grey in Lupin's brown hair, the lines of exhaustion marking his gentle face, the threadbare robes; but he could also see his smile and hear his undefeatable laughter. What was it that made some people shoulder their burdens with resilient humour and others turn to hatred and bitterness? There were times when he simply didn't understand himself. The potion bubbled. Severus added some cinnamon – an ingredient to make the taste more agreeable. Harry, he recalled, loved the cinnamon tea he himself enjoyed after a fatiguing day of teaching. Maybe he would give Harry a pack or two of that tea when he went to the Weasleys. There was absolutely no way that Severus was going to spend his holidays at Grimmauld Place. Fortunately, he had never bothered to stay at his now ruined house at Spinner's End during Christmas. This Christmas would be like all his Hogwarts Christmases. He would spend it in the dungeons and have his usual conversations and cups of tea with Albus Dumbledore. Nothing more and nothing less.

"The impression that I am a social animal is outrageously false," the Headmaster had told him several years ago when they were playing chess in Dumbledore's rooms. "The main bulk of my vivacious correspondence consists of business transactions. The people I _really_ interact with are usually in these quarters or at the Hog's Head Inn. All too often, Severus, public and private companionship are very different things."

Christmas was like any other day in the year for the reclusive Potions Master – maybe less aggravating because most of the students were at home – and all the more aggravating because he was excluded from family feeling and human cordiality. Christmas time was a particularly nasty way of rubbing in this last fact. Except that this was his first Christmas as a spouse. No, he decided stubbornly. He would not let himself bow to the charms and whims of a teenage wizard. If Harry wanted to celebrate Christmas away from Hogwarts, then so be it. It would have to be without his oh so endearing company.

"That's my final answer, Potter. Take it or leave it," he ground out in the silence of the room.

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It was Luna who told Harry that Remus Lupin had arrived at the castle. Harry gave her a hug – Luna was one of the few people who could boast utter composure in Harry's immediate proximity – and flew out of the castle to greet his surrogate godfather, who was walking along the Hogwarts grounds slowly, wrapped in a thick winter cloak – a gift from Tonks.

Remus looked at Harry's face closely. The young man had a preoccupied look about him; it reminded him of the way he had felt when Tonks's love for him had become clear. Stubborn and spirited as she was, she had managed to break down his doubts and convince him that poverty and lycanthropy were no barriers to a relationship. Remus was certain that Harry, who had an equally stubborn streak, was breaking down the antisocial walls Severus Snape had erected around himself over the years and had gained more than respect from the embittered Potions Master; Harry's letters to him during the past months said as much, but, considering Harry's occasional and charmingly sweet naiveté, without their writer realising their subconsciously hidden import.

"Well, Harry? How are you and your husband?" Remus said, smiling and giving Harry a warm hug.

/First of all, please tell me how you and Tonks are,/ was the anxious reply. And that was typical Harry, caring more for others than about himself.

"I am as fine as is possible in such times. Voldemort is trying to coax the werewolves into joining his side, and I have been attacked a few times by my fellow werewolves. Nothing which could not be patched up," he added quickly, noticing the look on Harry's face. "Dora is doing very well; she is my sunshine."

Harry smiled.

"Now tell me, how are you and Severus?"

A blush swept over Harry's cheeks, and it was not from the cold winter air.

/We're both fine. He is good to me. Sarcastic and abrasive as always, but in a different way now. It's no longer insulting. It's become more of a way to express his sense of humour. He can laugh when he wants to./ He hesitated, shuffling his feet in the snow, then continued: /Three days ago, he came inside my room to check on me, I think, and he...well, he kissed me on the forehead and left. I, uh, pretended I was sleeping. I'm learning breathing technique in our Occlumency lessons./

Remus was grinning from ear to ear in a very Marauderish way. "Well, Harry, I certainly hope you will return the gesture in a similar manner."

There was no doubt: Harry went positively crimson. /I've been wondering how. I dare not sneak into his bedroom, though./

Remus's eyes crinkled thoughtfully. "No, I don't think it's a good idea to sneak into the bedroom of a man who is on his guard even when he is asleep."

/How can I forget Moody's 'constant vigilance' motto? Severus is as vigilant as ten hawks, but I really think he thought I was fast asleep when he kissed my forehead./

"You are learning from the master, Harry."

/Haha, true. So...How do I go about kissing him?/

"Where would you like to kiss him?"

/Remus!/

"Oh, right. Try kissing him on Christmas; but be sincere about this, Harry. Severus has been hurt frequently enough in his life. If you want to return the gesture, do so with sincerity."

/Of course I am sincere about this, Remus. I.../ he paused.

Remus helped him in his gentle manner: "Are you developing feelings for him?"

/I.../ Harry looked into Remus's eyes. /Yes. I am. I never thought it would happen, after so many years of antagonism and only four months of marriage. He can be very caring, but he tries to hide it. It embarrasses him. Or used to embarrass him./

Remus put his arm around Harry. "In such dark times, finding happiness when and where you least expect it is a gift, Harry. It has happened to me thanks to Dora; and unless I am massively mistaken, it has happened to you. Severus is a good man, and if you two can bring out the best in each other after such a long time of bringing out the worst, then you're bound to find happiness."

Harry fiddled with his mittens.

/I don't think Severus wants to celebrate Christmas at Grimmauld Place. He said he'd think about it, but I have the feeling he's going to say no,/ he said suddenly.

"Give him some time, Harry. You may be an introvert, but you get on with people very easily. Severus is too used to his own company after so many years. Maybe he'll say yes, maybe he'll say no. Try to understand and respect his decision."

Harry nodded, recalling Hermione's words of relationships involving giving and taking. /Yeah, I will. It's just…I wish we could all spend Christmas together, especially in these times. I mean…Who knows if we'll be able to spend another Christmas together? And Severus is family. He's my family, like you are."

Remus brushed his hand over Harry's hair.

"We'll spend another Christmas together with family. And many more to follow," he said firmly. Harry gave him a happy-sad smile.

Later, in the dungeons, Remus studied Severus's stern features minutely. The Potions Master, who had given Remus a succinct summary of the new potion and ignored the man's expressions of awe and gratitude, looked up, irritated.

"Is something wrong, Lupin?"

"No, nothing at all, Severus. On the contrary: you look more relaxed."

"Relaxed? In times like these?" Severus commented, raising an eyebrow.

"I think you're enjoying married life," Remus continued, smiling.

Both eyebrows slouched downwards as Severus frowned. "What has Harry been telling you?"

Remus, noting the use of Harry's first name, answered: "He tells me that he is happy and that you are good to him."

Severus's high cheekbones turned wonderfully pink.

"Lupin, goodness and happiness are the last things any individual in their right mind would associate with someone like me."

"Harry looks happy, Severus," Remus remarked mildly. "He is blossoming thanks to married life, and so are you."

Severus shot him an incredulous look.

"Are you being sarcastic, Lupin?"

"Sarcasm is the last thing on my mind, Severus. You both look happy, and he enjoys talking about you."

A deep red colour flooded Severus's thin face.

"I doubt Potter is insane enough to be genuinely happy in my presence."

"He is perfectly sane," Remus smiled.

"It is impossible, considering our history."

"People change, Severus," Remus stated simply. "Harry seems to have settled down very nicely."

"I really do not know why I am discussing this personal matter with you, Lupin," Severus bit out, "and Harry is very young. He is only seventeen. Teenagers, as a rule, try out a variety of beds and bodies before settling with someone, and even then there is no guarantee. In addition, we have been married for only four months, and it is a marriage of convenience, as the whole Order knows ad nauseam."

"That is a cliché, Severus. When Harry gives his love to someone, then it is sincerely and absolutely – as I suspect it is with you, too."

"Love?" Severus snorted. "Love is a mere fabrication, an excuse to have something to live for and occasionally to die for."

"That is the cynic in you speaking."

"Naturally," Severus confirmed, giving Remus a scornful look. "I am a cynic."

"People who call themselves cynics usually have this little romantic spot tucked away-"

"If your furry-snouted highness will excuse me, I have to prepare for my Potions class," Severus interrupted Lupin quite rudely.

"Severus?"

"Lupin."

"Thank you for the Wolfsbane Potion and devoting your skills to its improvement. Your brewing is invaluable. And do call me Remus."

Severus scrutinised his face for a moment, then acknowledged Remus's thanks with a brief nod before departing in his infamous swirl of equally infamous black robes.

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	33. Chapter 32

**CHAPTER 32**

**A/N: To the anonymous person who submitted this review (which I deleted):**

"Yes, lets touch a mute child and eventually have sex with them. That is not romance, its paedophilia."

Harry is of Wizarding age in this story (seventeen). In fact, I had him insist in the beginning of this story that he would only marry Severus after turning seventeen. There is a lot more I would like to add, but I think it's better if we all proceed directly to the content of this chapter :-)

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_I'll try to be as succinct and enigmatic as you at this point: my Christmas was full of surprises._

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Back in the dungeons, Severus brooded over his conversation with Remus Lupin as he bottled the latest sample of the potion. The fact that he did not have any test subjects had been one of the factors which had made the development of the potion so difficult. Remus – typical Gryffindor! – had volunteered, however, and they had arranged for a meeting on the fourteenth of December, the day of the full moon. Severus would monitor the effects and ensure that Remus retained his human shape and mind without side effects. He would let Remus tell Harry about the case, he decided; but where Grimmauld Christmas celebrations were concerned – he was going to have to tell Harry himself.

Severus took a deep breath and stepped out into the hall, where Harry had just finished his Charms homework.

/Hi, Severus,/ Harry said, looking at him with those irresistible bright green eyes.

"Harry. I will be staying at Hogwarts during Christmas."

There was a small silence.

/Oh. Okay. All right. I'll send you an owl, then. I'll miss you, though,/ Harry said quickly, dropping his eyes for a few moments to hide his disappointment. Severus lingered around, suddenly feeling awkward and guilty.

"Thank you for your understanding," he said impassively.

/Sure, no problem. People have got different ways of celebrating, it would be silly if there was one prescribed manner,/ Harry said, trying to infuse his Telepathic voice with a jovial tone. /I'll be out with the Quidditch Team now. Training. I'll see you later./ He walked swiftly towards his room, emerged in Quidditch dress a few minutes later and hurried out of the dungeons. Severus sighed and buried his face in his hands, sitting down at his desk heavily. It had been difficult to tell Harry. It had been even more difficult to see Harry's hurt and his efforts to accept Severus's decision calmly and maturely. It had all been extremely, excessively, excruciatingly difficult because Severus Snape found himself caring deeply, passionately, madly for Harry Potter.

Harry was kind, caring and beautiful, plain and simple, and yes, wasn't that a funny oxymoron? But he really was beautiful, especially when he laughed and gave Severus those smouldering smiles – not that Harry knew about the potential pyrotechnical properties of his smiles, of course. Severus wondered what Harry would like for Christmas. Harry's heart, he knew, was best conquered with simple things given with sincere affection; and if he had to be utterly frank with himself, his own heart could be won in the identical manner. He still had Dumbledore's and McGonagall's well-chosen and well-used gifts, kept and tended carefully over the years.

As he brooded and ruminated, Severus stared at the childhood picture of himself and Lily, waving and smiling. Ashamed, he realised that he did not have a picture of Harry around. Of course, there were many pictures of Harry in the press, but those were for public enjoyment; he wanted his very own picture of his husband – a most natural wish, despite the truly absurd circumstances which had thrust him into matrimony. He ground his teeth. He could not swallow his pride and ask Harry for a picture, or to pose for one. No, he would not! On the other hand, his mind kept going back to that disappointed expression on Harry's face and his efforts to hide it. He scrutinised Lily's green eyes, those marvellous gems of genetics which she had bestowed on her son.

Harry's gaze, Severus concluded, turning away from the picture, was that of a highly skilled Legilimens, reminiscent of Albus Dumbledore, and, naturally, of Severus himself: his gaze had become like a touch. He seemed to look into Severus's very soul, and it was an unsettling experience whenever their eyes connected for more than a second or two. Harry's gaze had often made Severus feel uncomfortable from the time Harry had been a child of eleven; and now Harry was an adult and developing into a skilled Telepath; his eyes contained an erotic quality which sorely strained Severus's self-control, especially when they were alone together in one room. Besides the gaze, a distinctively flirtatious quality had recently entered Harry's interactions with Severus. Accidental yet lingering touches and gazes, roguish bantering and, oh yes, those smiles! A bottle which Severus had absent-mindedly picked off a shelf slid out of his hand and shattered on the floor. Uttering a very bad word which would have lost even Slytherin a hundred house points, Severus Banished the mess with his wand.

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/Severus has developed a new Wolfsbane Potion?/ Harry's Telepathic voice seemed to reverberate in Remus's mind.

"Ah, your Telepathic voice has developed an impressive volume, Harry. Yes, Severus will give me the potion on the fourteenth of this month - we have already arranged for a room which will be protected and locked with very powerful charms. He'll stay the whole night to monitor the effects and ensure my safety."

Harry's face was radiant.

/Fourteenth? This Sunday? That's brilliant! How come he did not tell me about this?/

"I think he was waiting for me to tell you."

Harry chuckled. /That would be typically Severus. I wish I could keep you company when you try out the potion./

"That is out of the question for safety reasons, Harry. Only Severus will be in the same room with me. Although he has brewed the potion with all the skills he possesses, he is risking his life for me. I have complete trust in his abilities."

/So do I. Does Tonks know?/

"Of course." Remus's eyes were always filled with love whenever Tonks was mentioned. Will Severus ever look at me like that? No, forget it, Severus is Severus, Harry thought with a stab of melancholy.

"The arrangement is very formal. Severus and I have signed an agreement with Albus as our witness."

Harry put one arm around Remus and hugged him. /Just take care of yourself and if there's any pain or just anything, do tell Severus./

Remus smiled at Harry's paternal tone.

"I will."

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Sunday the fourteenth of December arrived swiftly. Harry, Hermione, Ron were nervous and excited, wandering around the Hogwarts corridors and discussing the outcome of the experiment in the case of failure. Harry had been sworn to secrecy but had been granted permission by both Lupin and Severus to share the news with his two best friends.

/I can't help wondering why Severus didn't say anything, though./

"He didn't want to make you think he was trying to endear himself to you or something," Ron said shrewdly, "you know what he's like."

"I agree," Hermione stated. "And if it does fail, which I hope it won't, then you must try to be supportive and encourage him, Harry."

/Er...I'm not sure he'd take kindly to that./

"Difficult husband you've got there, mate," Ron commented, rubbing his temples.

/It adds to his charm,/ Harry protested.

"Of course it does," Hermione observed soothingly. She looked like she was trying not to smile. "His intellect and his robes _are_ sexy, aren't they?"

Ron darted an anxious glance at her, while Harry laughed and nodded.

"Great. My girlfriend thinks another man, Snape of all people, is sexy," he grumbled loudly.

"WHO IS SEXY?" Peeves's voice burst from behind them.

"Oh no...Just go away, you meddling eavesdropper!" Ron sighed. It was the wrong thing to say.

"SEXY SNAPEY, SEXY SNAPEY, SEXY SMEXY SNAPEY-APEY!" Peeves dashed away bellowing out his mocking tunes all over the castle.

Hermione glared at Ron. "Thank goodness we weren't discussing Harry's marriage when he snuck up on us," she muttered. All Harry could do was grin like a complete imbecile while Ron clutched his stomach and laughed like there was no tomorrow or today.

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"Lupin."

"Please, do call me Remus. Your husband is practically my godson."

Severus suppressed a sneer as he remembered Harry's actual godfather. Sirius was one person he would continue loathing forever, probably even more than James Potter – who, it occurred to Severus, would have fainted at the thought of being Severus's father-in-law had he been alive.

"Well then," he addressed Remus, "we both read and signed the agreement. Are you ready?"

"Yes." Remus's face was a bit pale.

Severus removed the stopper from the bottle he was carrying and poured the contents into a goblet. Like the previous version of the Wolfsbane Potion, the liquid smoked ominously. Severus handed the goblet to Remus.

"Sip this down slowly, don't gulp, unless you want to feel very dizzy."

"Thank you. For everything, Severus."

"Drink first, see if it works, then thank me," was the curt answer.

Remus raised the goblet to his lips and sipped at it.

"Now we wait until the moon rises," Severus said, sitting down and burying himself in a heavy tome. Remus pulled out a quill and a piece of parchment and began to write a letter to Tonks. Severus's eyes kept flicking above the rim of his book, monitoring Remus closely. When the moon rose, he moved across the heavily warded room and drew back the curtains, allowing the moonlight to flood the area, ignoring Remus's whisper to keep his, Severus's wand, at the ready. The Potions Master turned to face him, waiting, scrutinising Remus. There was no change. Remus remained human in both body and mind until the first sunrays announced the beginning of a cold but beautiful winter day. During their tense vigil, both men read, wrote and even played a game of Exploding Snap (Remus's idea). When dawn and daylight arrived, Severus got up from his chair. He opened his mouth to speak and announce the successful verdict, but found himself swept up in a very tight embrace.

"LUPIN! For heaven's sake!" Severus's voice was rather muffled. Remus laughed and liberated the gaunt shape of the Potions Master from the pressure of his arms.

"There is no need to look so sheepish, Lupin, you are still a werewolf, and the potion only prevents your transformation, it does not cure your condition. If you do not take it, you will transform."

"I do so enjoy your puns, Severus," Remus murmured, smiling drowsily.

"I would like to monitor you for another year, Lupin. The potion still needs fine-tuning. Your pulse was high and you were perspiring somewhat; the potion is heavy on the human circulatory system. I suggest that we leave this room and return to our respective quarters. We are due to meet the Headmaster at seven o'clock, which is quite soon."

The two men left, Remus with a look of disbelief on his face and Severus wearing his usual stern expression. When they reached the main staircase of the castle, Remus impulsively grabbed Severus's hands and pressed them.

"Severus, I really don't know how to thank you."

Severus, who was debating whether he should finally accept Remus's repeated thanks with grace or bark out a customary caustic retort, was silenced by Peeves, who hovered above them making loud sucking and kissing sounds.

"SNUPIN! SNUPIN! SNOOPY SAPPY SNUPIN!" Peeves roared with laughter. If there was one thing Remus and Severus had in common, it was a solid sense of dignity. Both wizards whipped out their wands, and the poltergeist found himself shut away in a suit of armour with a group of portraits snickering appreciatively in the background. A brief satisfied pause later, Severus nodded curtly at Remus.

"You're welcome."

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	34. Chapter 33

**CHAPTER 33**

A/N: Thank you so much for your kind reviews! **Special news**: Over the weekend, I put my blog The Snarry Files through a massive update, adding a new design and plenty of other goodies. You can find the link on my fanfiction profile page. Since it deals with Snarry, the blog will warn you that you're about to view mature content. There is a variety of ways for you to sign up if you wish, and you'll be able to read posts related to Snarry and this story.

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_I was finally able to sneak in that kiss I had been itching to give you since you kissed my forehead that night._

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Severus was exhausted when he returned to the dungeons. Harry's door was ajar as usual, and he hesitated again, lingering around for a few seconds, longing to watch the innocence of Harry's sleep and feel the softness of that tempting teenageman's skin underneath his lips. With a small sigh, Severus dragged himself onwards; he fetched a neat folder from his laboratory and proceeded to meticulously complete his notes and observations concerning the new Wolfsbane Potion. He had just enough time for a quick bathtub-soak, during which he forced himself to keep his hands off his groin. Gritting his teeth and plucking at his fresh robes, he went into the hall and discovered Harry waiting for him, green eyes wide and questioning.

"The formula still has to be fine-tuned, but the session was successful and I am quite optimistic about its further develop-" he was interrupted by the second hug of the day, even tighter than Remus's contribution. Harry was hugging him with all his might and rocking their bodies back and forth. Severus held him gently, patting his back awkwardly.

/I knew you'd do it! You're brilliant, Severus! Just brilliant!/ Harry's face was radiant when he finally drew back. Severus could not remember the last time someone had expressed such pride in him.

"I...Thank you, Harry."

Harry shook his head. /Thank you, Severus. This is groundbreaking news, it has to be published!/

"That is the big dilemma, Harry. The Dark Lord," he took a deep breath and continued, "Voldemort is trying to convince the werewolves to join his side. This new potion has the potential to become a political weapon, and that type of purpose is against my wishes."

Harry nodded. /The thought had occurred to me. I suppose this will entail long discussions with the Order./

"Yes. I have a meeting with the Headmaster in a few minutes."

/I'll see you at breakfast./ Harry looked wistfully at Severus. /I wish we could sit next to each other./

The Potions Master did not what to say; all he could do was look into those green eyes and allow himself to be enveloped by their warm gaze; then Harry raised his hand, patted Severus quickly on the shoulder and went off to pick up his friends from Gryffindor Tower. Severus could not help smiling a tiny but genuine smile. He decided that he rather enjoyed being hugged by Harry. Unbeknownst to him, Harry was kicking himself for not gathering all his Gryffindor courage and planting a kiss somewhere on Severus's stern face.

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The discussion about Severus's potion involved both admiration and, as Severus and Harry had correctly predicted, consternation due to the powerful brew's potential to serve as a weapon in the impending war. Plans to come to a final decision were arranged between Christmas and New Year, and one week before the start of the holidays, the castle was quite empty; most of the staff and students had gone home; Hermione was scheduled to spend the first few days with her parents before joining the others at Grimmauld Place. The Weasleys had already decorated the place, ignoring the foul cursing issuing forth from the picture of Sirius's mother. The twins had tried to remove the picture, but it had resisted even their explosive techniques. Efforts to cover the portrait and its curtains with tinsel had failed. Walburga Black, it seemed, was going to remain a permanent fixture in her brooding house – as was Severus in his dungeons; and before the Potions Master knew it, it was time to say goodbye to his husband.

As he looked into Harry's eyes on the day of the latter's departure, he considered changing his mind, telling Harry that he would accompany him to Grimmauld Place after all and celebrate with the others; or worse, asking Harry to cancel his plans and stay with him at Hogwarts and celebrate together…But no. Those were the sickly sweet thoughts of foolish naïve romantics who wore their hearts on their sleeves. He had to keep out Harry's life. It would be the first time in their married life since they were parted and had their own space back. Severus would have the run of the dungeons again and Harry would be able to enjoy the holidays with the people and friends he regarded as family, including healthy youngsters of his own age instead of an irascible Potions Master who was some twenty years his senior, had bullied him from the very first Potions lesson onwards, cheated on him on their wedding day and invaded his body in order to save his, Severus's, worthless scrawny life.

"Well then…Take care, Severus. I'm going to miss that sexy swirling and twirling of your robes."

"No cheek from you," Severus said, reverting to his teacher tone and hoping that he was not committing the unforgivable crime of blushing like an asinine schoolboy. Harry grinned, seeing a golden opportunity suddenly pop up on the horizon.

/No problem, I'll take your cheek since you're too fussy to take mine./ He rose on tiptoe and pressed a kiss against Severus's cheek. Severus blinked and turned red as Ron's ears in moments of elevated blood pressure.

/I'll miss you, Severus. If you change your mind, you're always welcome. You know that./

Severus did not say anything; but he settled for brushing Harry's ear gently with his knuckles – a clumsy but spontaneous gesture. Harry smiled, gave him one last piercing look, squeezed his hand quickly and left their quarters, trunk gliding behind him. He was going down to Hogsmeade to board the Knight Bus. It was either that or risk being Splinched, or even arrested for unlicensed Apparating – which he had already done once before when Severus and he had stood in front of the ruins of Spinner's End. Fortunately, since Harry was of age and the Aurors who had seen them vanish were their friends, this trespass had been generously overlooked, especially given the circumstances of the moment. The Apparating lessons now took place twice a year at Hogwarts; once in March, and the second time in October. Harry had signed up promptly; however, he disliked the stomach-churning sensation of Apparating as much as Flooing. Flooing, of course, was out of the question in times of war; the danger of spies or even interception in mid-Flooing was too great. The Apparition exam would take place in January, just before Severus's birthday.

The fact that Severus had not ended up railing at Harry for unlicensed Apparating said a lot about his growing feelings towards the young man – something Severus, of course, was most anxious to deny.

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To say that Severus was bored without Harry was an understatement. He was utterly miserable. He paced the library and brewed potions for hours, then gave up those activities when he discovered that he could not concentrate, and went upstairs to the Mirror Room where they had shared so many Legilimency and Occlumency lessons. He could still feel Harry's lips against his cheek. The silence in the dungeons irritated him to such an extent that he took to wandering about the castle after midnight. Of course, he inevitably ran across Dumbledore during one of his nocturnal strolls. The Headmaster promptly ushered him into his rooms for a very late cup of tea and plate of biscuits.

"You miss him?" Albus inquired gently. Severus pursed his lips.

"I've not had many people to miss so far," he said curtly, nibbling dispiritedly at a biscuit. Albus smiled, recognising the admission hidden in the lofty words.

"Why don't you drop in for a Christmas visit, Severus? It's not too late. Christmas is day after tomorrow."

"Well, yes, I can count and I am in possession of a calendar. What is the necessity of such a visit?"

"You are missing him. And I believe he is missing you. You are quite despondent."

"What you call despondency is regarded as my natural disposition, Albus," Severus observed dryly.

Dumbledore placed a knowing hand on Severus's shoulder. The Potions Master stiffened, then capitulated, allowing the gesture.

"Despondency is not your natural disposition. Why are you so reluctant to allow yourself to love – and to be loved, child?" His long fingers rubbed Severus's thin shoulder gently.

Severus glowered at him.

"Please consider this absurd question, Albus: is love for someone like me?"

"Of course it is, Severus. I have seen the way Harry behaves around you and looks at you. He loves you."

Heat suffused Severus's cheeks.

"How can he?"

"Do you remember what I told you about Harry, Severus? He is capable of great love and kindness. He can see in people what they themselves cannot see, much like his mother Lily. You sound like he has committed a crime."

"He? Not he. _I_ am a criminal. He should avoid me. He should bestow his feelings on someone more suitable."

"You made mistakes, Severus. You confronted them and were ready to sacrifice your life when you turned your back on Voldemort."

Severus said softly, almost helplessly: "It was supposed to be a marriage of convenience – nothing more than a means to an end."

"But it has become something else, hasn't it, child? It's time you left the past behind. I repeat again: cherish what is developing between you and him. Be happy, Severus, in spite of Voldemort and war on the horizon."

Severus acquiesced in his usual manner: he was silent.

"I'll tell Headquarters that you'll drop by tomorrow evening and plan to stay for the remainder of the holiday...or maybe I should say _this_ evening, considering that tomorrow is already today." Dumbledore continued, glancing at the grandfather clock in the corner and reaching for a sherbet lemon with a twinkle in his blue eyes as exasperation spread over Severus's face.

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	35. Chapter 34

**CHAPTER 34**

_You made me mope during the Christmas holidays, Severus! I think everyone noticed. Except for you, of course, because you were back at Hogwarts. Away from me. _

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Harry shut the lid of his trunk and shoved it underneath his bed with his foot. The portrait of Phineas Nigellus was currently an empty piece of canvas on the wall. There was another bed in the large room. Severus would have slept in it, he thought. His door was ajar; he could hear people arriving, greeting each other and going to their own rooms. He sat down on the bed and cupped his chin in his hands, brooding.

"Harry!" Hermione's clear voice interrupted his thoughts, followed by a familiar "Oy! Where are you, mate?"

Ron, impetuous as always, barged inside without knocking, but Harry didn't mind. He rose and spread his arms: the three friends hugged each other tightly.

"So, hubby is not joining the festivities?" Ron remarked, looking around the room, his blue eyes lingering on the empty bed. He sounded nonchalant, but Harry could sense his disapproval.

/No. He didn't give a reason. He actually told me before the Christmas holidays, but I was hoping he'd change his mind. Silly, right? Severus Snape wouldn't be Severus Snape if he changed his mind, but I just kept on hoping. I really should have known better./

"I guess what you hope for and what you expect can be different sometimes," Ron said wisely. Hermione patted Harry's back; like Ron, she regarded Harry as a younger brother.

"He's very proud," she remarked. "Rather too proud. But I think that will change one day. You've been married for only a few months, so he needs more time for you to rub off on him."

"Ah, you know what they say, 'Mione. Men marry women in the hope that they won't change, and women marry men in the hope that they'll be able to change them."

Hermione looked critical.

"While there is a grain of truth in many proverbs and statements on life, it's never good to generalise things."

/I have the impression that he thinks I need my own space and have to be around people whom I am close to by choice./

"As opposed to your, well, coerced marriage," Ron said, sitting down next to Harry.

"But it has become something else," Hermione said, unknowingly echoing Dumbledore's words during his conversation with Severus. Harry nodded.

/And since even owl post is becoming risky, given Hedwig's striking appearance, I don't know how to keep in touch with him. The Floo is barred, and I feel so stupid about breaking that two-way mirror Sirius gave me. It cannot be repaired. It's useless now, and I don't know where to get another pair, or if it's even possible./

Hermione sat down on Harry's other side.

"Maybe it's possible to make them on one's own, if one has the proper knowledge and skill. I'm quite sure a two-mirror has a modified Protean Charm."

"So you'd simply need two mirrors and a custom-tailored Protean Charm?" Ron said skeptically. "It can't be so easy. You put a lot of work into creating those fake Galleons for Dumbledore's Army."

/But it's the same principle,/ Harry said; then he thumped his knee with his fist. /Fuck, I miss him. Until we consummated our marriage, I would have given everything to never see him again. And now I want to see him again./

"Love will do that to people," Ron said. Harry looked at him, surprised.

/You're…not…er…disgusted?/

"I think it's quite safe to say that you've charmed your way into that rock of a heart he's got. For one thing, his grooming habits have improved, although his behaviour is still intolerable in class. For another, he actually invited Hermione and me to tea and played chess with me."

"You also seem quite happy now," Hermione observed.

"Sparkly eyes, glowing cheeks, sudden smiles…and now you're moping because he's not around," Ron teased him, nudging him in the ribs. Harry went red.

/I am not moping!/

"Oh, and that too," Hermione chirped, referring to his blushing; she conjured a Japanese fan and fanned Harry's face with it.

/Oy!/

Ron took the fan from her, studying it.

"Brilliant! Even the pattern is spot on," he said admiringly. It was Hermione's turn to blush.

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Severus swore softly as he quadruple-checked his pockets for Harry's gift, knowing perfectly well that it was on his person but wanting to reassure himself of its presence repeatedly.

"Infuriating meddler," he grumbled, imagining the roguish smile on the Headmaster's wise face, but he was unable to exclude the affection from his surly tone. Over the years, a strong bond of love had grown between him and Dumbledore, and no arguments or disagreements had shaken that love so far. Severus was like a son to Dumbledore, and Dumbledore was the father Severus had never really had. And now, as he prepared himself and a large travelling bag for going down to Hogsmeade to take the heavily Aurored Knight Bus, he felt himself acknowledge the fact that love existed even for him; his cynical heart burrowed around in its cobwebbed corners and found a new thing: hope.

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Christmas Eve was a merry time in spite of the increasingly dark times; all the Weasleys, with the exception of Percy, were present. Only Molly Weasley and Harry were somewhat subdued; the former because of Percy's cold-hearted behaviour, and the latter because of Severus's absence. They nevertheless made a huge effort to participate in the merriment, ignoring the occasional compassionate glances of the others.

Sunlight was yielding to dusk when the Weasley children and Harry finished decorating the enormous Christmas tree while a stream of blasphemous anathemas issued from the portrait of Sirius's mother. Remus Lupin and Nymphadora Tonks disappeared sometime during the first festive operations and reappeared looking somewhat dishevelled. Harry, however, noticed their glowing sated faces and bit his lip, trying to feel happy for them. The twins, too, smirked knowingly.

"Tonks is a howler-" Fred whispered confidentially to Harry, "and Remus is a growler," George finished his sentence. Harry's eyes bulged behind his glasses.

/Please don't tell me you've been spying on them with those Extendable Ears!/

"We're trying to add an Invisibility Charm to them, but it seems to diminish their hearing power," George murmured regretfully, "but you know us – we'll find a way."

/Can't you find a way which does not involve messing with people's bedroom lives?/ Harry said crossly.

"_You_ don't have anything to worry about, Harrykins," Fred reassured him. Harry's face became sombre.

"Oh dear. That was the wrong thing to say, bro," George sighed, giving Harry a one-armed hug.

When Harry went up to his room for a quick wash after decorating the tree (Fred and George had enchanted some pinecones and snowballs to bounce off the tree-decorating committee), he sat down on the floor with the bedstead pressing into his back, missing Severus, longing for his abrasive humour and abrupt ways, his rare but genuine smiles, the intelligence and complexity of his personality reflected in those dark eyes. A familiar cough from the now no longer empty portrait on the wall made him raise his head, and Phineas Nigellus stared down at him.

/Oh! Hi. Sir,/ Harry said, startled.

"Not bad, communicating telepathically with a portrait. Impressive teaching by Severus Snape."

/Do you know how he is? Is he well?/

Phineas gave him a sly look.

"My, my! Someone is succumbing to tender feelings and _chagrin d'amour_."

/Is he well?/ Harry repeated, ignoring the taunt.

"Why don't you ask him yourself?" the former Headmaster snickered, vanishing from the portrait. If he had been fifteen, Harry would have cursed, thrown something at the portrait and taken the taunt for what it was: a taunt, and nothing more. Now, however, he frowned, wondering if there was a message hidden in that last question. A gentle knock on his door distracted him, and he answered the signal. Remus and Tonks, now composed and no longer flushed, smiled at him.

"Someone wants to see you at once, Harry, and they'll be sharing your room until the end of the holidays," Remus announced, leaning against the doorframe.

"Who?"

Remus's smile was roguish, and Tonks's hair turned a magnificent orange shade.

"He's waiting for you downstairs, he just arrived with the Knight Bus with Kingsley and Alastor," Tonks said, winking at him.

A tingle spread throughout Harry's body; his hands suddenly became sweaty, his knees felt like rubber and he rushed down the stairs, nearly tripping in his haste.

The Potions Master was standing near the fireplace. The black eyes locked with the bright green ones and his hands were gripped by a pair of smaller ones.

/You changed your mind!/

"Yes."

/May I ask why?/

"No."

Harry laughed and threw his arms around his husband. Severus bashfully returned the embrace, wondering at the magic of a simple brachial encirclement.

Hermione, Ron, the twins and Ginny, who had been startled by the loud thumping of Harry's feet upon the stairs, peeked out of the kitchen.

"Blimey! Isn't that _sweet_?" George whispered, awed.

"Sweet? Sweet is for Honeydukes. It's bloody hot! Downright sexy!" his sister observed, craning her neck for a better view of the couple.

Ron blinked at her in astonishment while Hermione stifled a guffaw.

"Better get out the Extendable Eyes later tonight," Fred whispered.

"Extendable _Eyes_?" Hermione asked.

"The companion piece to our Extendable Ears," George explained.

"Oh no, you can't possibly...I mean...No way, that's a huge breach of privacy!" Hermione hissed.

Ginny's grin became wider – until Remus, noticing their inquisitive behaviour, entered the kitchen and discreetly closed the door behind him. The twins scowled, Ron looked thoughtful and the young witches amused.

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	36. Chapter 35

**CHAPTER 35**

**A/N: First of all, thanks a lot for your patience! Lots of squashy hugs to you! **

**Secondly, some of you have asked me for the link to Diagonalist's _Flawed Lines_, and also for the factsheet for Marius Rivers (Severus's ex from _Tears of Healing_). You can find both links on my profile page. I have also posted an entry on my blog about writing intimate scenes...and why I absolutely dread writing them! :-)**

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_How was I supposed to go about "seducing" you, Severus Snape? A combination of scheming and spontaneity sounded quite promising. Right? _

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When Mrs Weasley and her husband entered the room, Severus and Harry let go of each other, Harry greeting the couple affectionately while Severus offered them a stiff nod followed by a formal "Good evening, Mrs Weasley...Mr Weasley..."

Molly Weasley glared at him.

"You will kindly call us by our first names, young man. You are our son-in-law."

Severus went brick red and allowed himself to be ushered into the dining room to join the rest of the wizarding folk for a sumptuous dinner. Harry ate with the appetite of a healthy young teen, and even Severus managed a second helping. The twins kept shooting roguish glances at Harry and Severus, not noticing that they themselves were being watched by a vigilant Hermione. The result was that Mrs Weasley stomped into the twins' room after supper and confiscated the Extendable Ears and Eyes in stony silence.

"You're a complete spoilsport, Hermione," Fred commented bleakly.

"There's no way you're going to spy on people's sex lives! Voyeurism is below you," she observed coldly.

"Hey, hey, we were only joking, we're not as perverted as you think!" George defended himself. Ron wisely sought refuge in a game of Gobstones with Remus and Tonks, trying to maintain a sense of diplomacy around his girlfriend and brothers. Severus was taking a shower upstairs in the enormous bathroom, and Harry and Ginny were talking about Quidditch, sex, relationships and Telepathy while they played wizarding Scrabble. Before bedtime, everyone rushed to their respective rooms to fetch their Christmas parents and place them underneath the tree before heading off for a shower. The bathroom at Grimmauld Place was quite unique. Each person had their very own bathroom with a sink, toilet and shower stall plus a name plaque on the door. Harry's cell was located between Severus's and the twins' cubicles. Harry made sure to place a very strong Silencing Charm on the walls while he showered, fantasised about Severus and attended to his needs in a manner which, to use Fred and George's terminology, made him both a howler and a growler. He could not speak, but he could still produce gasps and cries which echoed off the bathroom tiles. It seemed to him that once sexuality kicked in, it stubbornly insisted on making adolescence and adulthood infinitely more complicated and somehow cruel. Ah well, he mused, that was the human being and human nature. He discovered that he was happily nervous about the prospect of sharing a room with Severus Snape, especially for several nights to come.

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Severus eyed his grey nightshirt with distaste, resisting the temptation to incinerate it. It was, he had to admit, a decidedly unflattering garment. He flicked some robes (all black, of course) aside and pulled out a plain two-piece set of sleepwear (also black). He decided to pull on his pair of favourite fluffy socks when Harry was tucked away in bed. A psychologically hardened man like him was not expected to wear or cherish anything fluffy, after all, he thought scornfully. He could, of course, have cast a warming spell on his cold toes, but he preferred socks: they were a pleasant soft barrier between his feet and the mattress. The door opened, and Harry stepped inside, his hair moist and those green eyes sparkling. He was dressed in a light-blue t-shirt and grey sweat pants. His feet (Severus tried not to stare at those spotless straight toes and shapely ankles) were enticingly bare when he drew them out of their winter slippers. An awkward silence spread inside the room, briefly interrupted by a very soft cough from Phineas Nigellus's portrait on the wall. Severus jerked his head abruptly at Harry's wizarding clock (purchased during a Hogsmeade meeting) on the table between their beds.

"It is half past eleven," he announced. Harry looked amused.

/Yes, it is,/ he confirmed.

"I suggest that we go to sleep," Severus said, trying to keep his restless hands under control. He folded them on his lap, showing no signs of slipping underneath the sheets.

/Shall I tuck you in?/ Harry asked cheekily.

"Thank you, that is quite unnecessary," Severus growled and proceeded to assume a horizontal position in bed. Harry rose, rummaged around their shared clothes cupboard for a few moments and pulled out a pair of mismatched socks knitted for him by Dobby. Severus tried not to wince as Harry drew the thick monstrosities over his feet. There was another cough from Phineas's canvas. Severus pulled out his wand.

"Albus, as you well know, is in the possession of lemon drops, Phineas."

The former headmaster stalked into view, staring down his nose at the couple. Harry was half sitting, half lying in bed, one knee drawn up and the other leg stretched out.

Phineas continued gazing at them, then shook his head slowly with a look of utter exasperation spreading over his face and strutted out of his canvas without a single word.

Muttering, Severus placed his wand on his side of the table. Harry did the same. Another silence ensued. Then Harry suddenly burst out laughing. Severus, puzzled and confused, stared at him glacially. Five minutes later, Harry climbed out of bed, wiping away tears of laughter.

/Budge up a little, will you, Severus?/ he asked quite politely. Severus spluttered.

"You want to lie inside my bed?" he barked incredulously.

/Yes – just for a bit, if you don't mind. And with you still in it./

"Actually, I do mi-" Severus was interrupted by Harry raising the bedclothes and sliding underneath them.

/Okay. Severus, I'm not going to bite you. This is my way of convincing you./

Severus took a deep breath.

"Harry, there are a number of reasons why this is unwise."

Harry's face became serious.

/Severus, I know what you are thinking of./ He carefully placed his hand on top of Severus's. /Please don't push me back or pull away from me. I am glad to finally share the same room with you during the holidays./

Severus determinedly blocked out the fact that he, too, was glad about this circumstance. The spouses faced each other, locked in eye speech until Severus remarked: "I think it's time for you to return to your own bed."

/Oh, okay. Good night, Severus./

"Good night, Harry./

Harry slipped over to his own bed and turned off the light with a flick of his wand. Tense silence, this time underlined with a sense of disappointment, crept back into the room. Severus quietly pulled on his fluffy socks underneath the sheets. Harry settled himself on his side, exhaled deeply and was quiet. After an hour, Severus's hand inched towards the hot aching organ between his thighs.

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"Well, Phineas?" Dumbledore asked, dressed in turquoise night robes.

Phineas sniffed disapprovingly. "They are not taking advantage of their conjugal or spatial privileges."

"They still have two weeks' time," Dumbledore said thoughtfully.

Phineas huffed. "Two centuries would be more adequate."

"Now, now, Phineas, I'm sure the Christmas spirit will move things along."

Phineas pretended to go to sleep. Dumbledore swished away to his bedroom, smiling enigmatically.

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	37. Chapter 36

**CHAPTER 36**

A/N: A belated merry Christmas and a happy New Year to you all! One month after my flu, I ended up catching a stubborn cold from my father. The bug made the round of the whole family, and our wastepaper bins were overflowing with paper hankies ;-) I'm quite fine again and throwing off the last sniffles. I try to post delay notifications and other odd snippets on my blog – I'm not really a hardcore blogger, hence "try" :-)

Secondly, you will find a link to Wikipedia about sai in my latest blog post.

And finally: MysticSong1978: I sent you a PM before Christmas, hope you got it :-)

**Warning: this chapter mentions incestuous relations (Phineas/Walburga).**

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_No bedroom should be burdened with an animated portrait featuring a snide person – especially when said character has ties with a certain meddling Headmaster. When Phineas Nigellus...well...overstepped a certain line, you took revenge in a manner which benefited all the people in the house. _

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In their bedroom at Grimmauld Place, Severus stifled a sigh and reached for his wand to clean up the sticky mess between his legs and over one hand. He could have used a wandless charm, but he had discovered that aggressive cleaning spells applied to such a delicate area led to loss of pubic hair and, in a few cases, ingrown hairs. The torture inflicted upon his groin area by the revolting pus-filled pockets of folliculitis had been quite remarkable. Two or three experiences in his teens had been more than enough, and he had discovered that holding his wand a few centimetres above his pubic area and using a series of gentle cleaning spells did the trick most efficiently without disagreeable repercussions. He removed the Silencing Charm and was able to sleep for about five hours when he was woken up early in the morning by Harry's slim form slipping out the door in quest of the bathroom. The young man returned with moist hair, fresh clothes and a whiff of toothpaste and aftershave. Severus sat up in bed, and Harry turned, looking at him with a smile.

/Merry Christmas, Severus./

Severus, never a morning person, muttered back a curt greeting and left the room. Once he reached his own bathroom cell, he sighed and set about preparing himself for a long tedious day filled with frivolous festivities. Back in the room he shared with his husband, he was displeased to discover Phineas Nigellus strutting around in his portrait, hands interlocked behind his back, chin pointing skywards smugly. Harry quirked an eyebrow at Severus.

/Seems unusually happy about something today, and I bet it's not Christmas,/ he said. Phineas, who was locked out of the conversation, scowled, looking between the two wizards.

"Is there any information you wish to convey to me, Nigellus?" Severus asked coldly. Phineas drew himself up, bristling at Severus's tone.

"The Headmaster sends you his best Christmas wishes. And if I may add a tiny suggestion of my own: you may want to change your bed sheets, Severus."

Harry frowned, puzzled; but Severus understood. His face became red with rage.

/Severus, what...?/

"You spied on us during the night?" Severus roared at the portrait.

"Now, now, Severus, we Slytherins have to watch out for each other," Phineas observed serenely, "besides, considering your own spying activities, you should be praising me instead of addressing me with such rudeness."

"RUDENESS?"

/Okay, what is going on?/ Harry said, now communicating with both of them.

"Your spouse masturbated in bed, cleaned himself and did not bother about the sheets," Phineas explained loudly. The red shade suffusing Severus's cheeks turned purple, and he waited for Harry to scream accusations of disgust at him, or burst into laughter and mock him. Harry, however, glared at Phineas.

/You have absolutely no right to invade our privacy!/ he shouted, his cheeks flushed.

"Is that so?" Phineas quipped, raising his thin eyebrows. "Not even when you offer yourself to him-" he gestured disdainfully at Severus with a painted arm, "-and he prefers his hand over your rectal charms, young Harry?"

Severus saw red. A flash of an ebony wand, a muttered spell, and the portrait crashed down upon the floor. Harry darted forward and picked it up.

/You know, I think he'd be great company for Sirius's mother,/ he said. Severus, however, was too angry to stay a moment longer in the room. Ignoring Harry and the portrait, he strode out of the room, slamming the door behind him. Harry bit his lip; then he followed Severus and went down to the still deserted hall. He drew back the curtains of Walburga Black's portrait, ignoring the onslaught of protesting shrieks from the witch herself, and stuck Phineas's picture next to hers. Phineas, who had fallen over during the rough treatment of his canvas, stood up slowly, dusting off his knees and settling his collar. He had lost his sneer, but this was not due to Severus's impressive show of temper, but rather because of his new location; his eyes flicked in the direction of Walburga's suddenly silent portrait: the witch was following his movements, her eyes narrowed.

"Maybe you could return me to my previous location?" Phineas asked, sounding astonishingly polite.

/From what I recall, your change of location should not affect your ability to communicate with Professor Dumbledore – or to apologise to my husband,/ Harry replied coldly.

"WHAT IS HE DOING HERE? THIS IS MY DOMAIN!" Walburga Black raged.

/Aren't Slytherins supposed to look out for each other?/ Harry reminded both of them.

"Well, ultimately, a Slytherin looks out for his or her very own self," Phineas amended his previous statement.

/You'll have plenty of time to discuss the issue together. You should get on well enough, you are both Purebloods and genetically related, after all,/ Harry said stingingly, drawing the curtains closed, listening with relish to Walburga unleashing a flood of profanity which included vicious insults concerning the apparently diminutive size of Phineas Nigellus's genitals.

Harry nodded to himself in a rather Dumbledoresque manner and tracked down his fuming husband in the kitchen in front of a mug of black tea. Harry hesitated.

"Leave me alone," Severus ground out, his thin fingers curling around the mug.

/I just wanted to say that-/

"Potter. Leave. Me. Alone," Severus enunciated slowly, a dangerous note creeping into his voice. Bravery was one thing; disrespect another. Harry could see that Severus's mood resembled that of a volcano on the verge of erupting. Common sense prodded him to obey and retreat to the hall, stretching out a hand to touch the Christmas tree. It wasn't long before his friends joined him, the youngsters thundering down the stairs while the adults followed at a more sedate pace. Hugs and Christmas greetings were exchanged, Severus's solitude in the kitchen was rudely interrupted and breakfast swallowed against a cheerful background of Christmas carols from the wizarding radio. Harry and Severus were seated opposite each other, their eyes meeting every now and then. During these precious moments of eye speech, Harry tried to tell Severus, via Telepathic whispering, that what Severus did in bed was his business and that he, Harry, enjoyed the same activity Phineas had mentioned in such a crude manner. A Stinging Hex aimed at his knee silenced him, and with a sinking heart, he decided to save his Christmas morning and chat with Remus, who was sitting next to him. Remus, always a keen observer of human interactions, had noticed the tension between Harry and Severus; he could sense the former's concern and the latter's anger.

"Waiting is the key, Harry. Give him some time, and try to talk to him when the two of you are alone at the end of the day," he murmured kindly to his surrogate godson. Harry smiled at him and pressed Remus's hand gratefully underneath the table. Severus, looking up from his hardly touched plate of eggs, bacon and sausage, caught the smile. It took the simplest of things to make Harry smile, he thought, regretting his foul mood and the Stinging Hex. After breakfast, everyone gathered around the tree and proceeded to open their gifts. Severus, to his infinite mortification, discovered himself the recipient of several well-chosen gifts and the giver of very few presents. Harry was carefully setting aside the new set of robes Mrs Weasley had got him when Severus touched his elbow. Harry turned, and their eyes met.

"I apologise," Severus said abruptly. "You were not to blame for that court jester's misdemeanour. I'll have a word with Albus about his choice of portrait messengers."

The smile he had been longing for flashed out at him, warm and uplifting. Before the young wizard could say anything, Severus handed him the packet he had shoved into his robes before leaving Hogwarts for Christmas at Grimmauld Place.

One side of Harry's mouth lifted in a roguish smile.

/I think I know what this is,/ he said, removing the wrapping paper. He laughed and held up tin of fragrant cinnamon tea; and before Severus could say anything, he found himself subjected to a tight hug and, much to his delight, a rather lingering kiss on his cheek. Severus flushed and drew his husband's attention to another parcel. Harry looked astonished.

/That's also for me?/ he asked.

"Indeed," Severus said dryly.

Harry opened the package carefully while his husband watched him closely, dark eyes following Harry's fingers as they raised one flap of the paper. The young man stared at the contents, then in happy shock at Severus.

/Sai?/ He picked up the sword-like weapons, holding one firmly in each hand. The light glanced off the blades and prongs.

/Wizarding sai?/

"Yes."

Harry wrapped one arm around Severus's neck and kissed him again, this time quite close to one corner of his mouth.

"Whoa, Harry, what are those?" Ron asked. Hermione and some of the others gathered around. Severus explained the identity and history of the weapons in his usual succinct manner.

"Who'll teach you how to handle them?" Ginny asked, handling the sai with deep interest.

"I will. I know how to duel with wizarding sai," Severus said.

"I know that you are an outstanding duellist, Severus, but the ability to handle wizarding sai is exceptional," Remus remarked.

"Thank you, Lupin."

"You can call him Remus, Severus," Nymphadora Tonks piped up, kissing Remus on the cheek.

"I shall attempt to modify my form of addressing your partner in the future," Severus answered. Tonks chuckled and Harry's eyes sparkled; then he nudged Severus gently.

/Here's my gift for you, it's something really small,/ Harry said, handing him a small parcel.

It was a journal for potions note. As he opened it, he discovered that Harry had transferred a copy of his notes on the new Wolfsbane Potion to the book. Another section contained a plethora of spells he, Severus, had invented as a teenager, continuing well into adulthood. Harry must have plucked them out from the dustiest shelf in their library, the one in the darkest section of the room, right at the very back. Severus could feel the layers of skilful protective magic wrapped around the book. He found himself reaching out with his free hand, pressing Harry briefly against him, resisting the temptation to kiss that delicious mouth, then letting go, watching a beaming Harry step out of his embrace and pick up the sai, which, as he let go of them in mid-air, floated and hovered in front of him, the metal flickering with powerful magic, cast for hours in the privacy of Severus's Potions laboratory. The room had glowed with magic, and Severus could have sworn that he had heard phoenix song towards the end of his spell-casting interspersed with Telepathic whispering from Harry.

Hermione touched one of the sai carefully. She glanced at Severus, who seemed to be genuinely interested in his conversation with Remus and Tonks, and quirked her eyebrows at Harry.

"Only protective magic cast for a loved one can be so powerful, you know," she remarked nonchalantly. Harry reddened.

Christmas lunch was a merry affair, with Harry and Severus locking eyes again occasionally; and two or three times, Harry brushed his foot ever so accidentally against Severus's shin. Severus pretended not to notice, but the momentary tightening of his fingers around his cutlery and the quiver of his eyelids did not escape Harry's notice.

Halfway through dessert, there was a loud crash of something falling onto the floor. Remus, Ginny and the twins rose and tracked down the noise to the picture of Walburga Black, which, after defying countless spells to remove the Sticking Charm, finally lay on the floor, glass and frame shattered.

"Where has she gone to?" Fred wondered, examining the empty canvas.

"Over there!" George guffawed, pointing at Phineas's portrait. The belligerent witch and the former Headmaster of Hogwarts were engaged in sexual intercourse over the latter's desk. Remus's eyebrows shot up, and he hastily snapped the curtains closed. Ginny went into a long coughing spasm as she stifled her snickering.

"I think it should be possible for a very skilled wizard to remove her with wizarding solvent...er...afterwards," Remus stated, scratching his neck.

"Can painting subjects get pregnant?" Ginny asked pensively.

"That, Miss Weasley, is quite impossible," Severus answered all the way from the table.

"But they can still have sex and experience pleasure, can't they?" Hermione inquired clinically. Mr and Mrs Weasley got up quickly and carried their dessert bowls into the kitchen. Ron's ears became quite pink.

"You would need to study Wizarding Painting minutely for an in-depth understanding of bodily functions in paintings, Miss Granger. It is a highly complex field, and the exams are said to be very strict. If you wish, I can lend you a book on the topic when we return to Hogwarts," Severus replied.

"Oh! That would be wonderful, Professor. Thank you very much!"

Severus acknowledged her thanks with a brief nod. Harry's face was glowing with joy and pride.

The remainder of the day passed harmoniously. After the huge Christmas lunch, supper was a light meal, consisting of pumpkin soup and some olive bread. At around ten at night, some people went upstairs for a shower and bed while the others continued chatting until one o'clock in the morning. Severus and Harry retired early. This time, Severus did not protest when Harry, holding a book on wizarding duelling casually in one hand, asked if he could share Severus's bed for a few minutes. He simply raised one corner of the duvet and let Harry slip into bed next to him.

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	38. Chapter 37

**CHAPTER 37**

A/N: I have never handled sai myself before (or ever even been near a set of sai), so in spite of reading up on the handling of sai and watching Youtube videos, I decided to remain vague, that way I don't make a fool of myself ;-)

**Warning: this chapter mentions incestuous relations (Phineas/Walburga) and underage sexual abuse (Lucius/Severus). **

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_Once you had consentingly let me into your bed, I decided that I was not going to just lie around in there, not with you right next to me trying to maintain that impassive expression of face and tone and all the while shuffling your feet underneath the duvet (yes, Severus, I noticed!). _

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/Thank you for the wonderful Christmas gifts, Severus./

"You are welcome. I must admit that your choice of gift for me impressed me most favourably."

Harry's green eyes sparkled at Severus's characteristic manner of expressing a positive sentiment.

/You're very welcome, Severus./ He shifted in bed and placed his book – which he had no intentions of reading while sharing his husband's bed – on the floor. As he leant out of bed, the bedclothes rode down and his t-shirt travelled up his hip, displaying, for a delicious second or two, a narrow strip of smooth skin. Severus swallowed and pretended to settle his sleeves. Harry eased his lithe body into bed again, his back against the headboard. His knee nudged Severus's casually.

/I didn't think Phineas and his great-granddaughter would actually end up fucking. It's quite incestuous, even for a painting./

Severus glared at his husband. "You want to watch your language when you're in my immediate proximity!"

/Well then, having sex./

Severus sniffed disdainfully. "The more...conservative...Pureblood families have a history of inbreeding, due to attempting to keep the family blood pure. Logically and ironically, this purity credo is the best way to contaminate genes, leading to disastrous genetic mutations. The Headmaster, who is deeply interested in wizarding genealogy, has traced signs of heavy inbreeding in the Dark Lord's...Voldemort's...family tree. Cousins, uncles, aunts, even grandfathers and granddaughters-"

/-all interfucked?/

"Mr Potter, if you do not behave like the adult young man your age and some of your past actions declare you to be, I shall have to ask you to leave my bed."

/I like to get to the core of things, Severus./

"You can do so without crude language. Your attempts at getting my attention are decidedly ham-handed."

/Oh. I thought I already had your attention./

"Presumptuous boy."

Harry's teasing expression became serious.

/I am neither presumptuous nor a boy, Severus. I know what's on your mind, and I think we need to discuss it./

Severus averted his face. "I am astonished. Absolutely astonished that you would even _want_ to share a bed with me."

Harry reached out and touched the back of Severus's hand very lightly. The Potions Master did not discourage the gesture and resumed: "Or that you would want to touch me, after what I did to you. Albus has thrust you into the same bedroom with your rapist."

Harry's lips quivered for a moment as they sought to speak aloud but only managed to produce a sigh.

/How many times do I have to tell you that you did not hurt me during our consummation?/

Severus sat up bolt upright, eyes flashing. "Oh, I tried not to cause any physical pain. But what has it done to _you_?"

Harry took Severus's cold clenched hands in his.

/Severus, it was a matter of life and death. That, and we knew and assumed only the worst things about each other back then. I did not, and do not, feel violated after our consummation. Of course it could have been different; of course we were both kind of forced into all this, choosing the better of worse options; of course we have quite a history between us, but I do not regret our intercourse, and we have come such a long way since we bonded./

"Yet my life was not worth such a sacrifice on your part."

Harry's eyes flashed, and he slipped his fingers between Severus's long ones, squeezing them tightly.

/Never say that again. Is your life of such small value to you? It may be so to you, but I disagree with you!/

Ah, such passion and determination in the young face, those beautiful fiery eyes, the set mouth, taut jaw and in the pressure of his grip on Severus's hands.

/You would have chosen death – if I had let you. I chose not to let you choose death. Does that make sense?/

"You sound like Albus."

Harry smiled a little before continuing gravely: /You felt raped afterwards, didn't you? You still feel that way./

"Yes. I have been ensnared so often in a twisted disgusting game of power, a game which enables the abused to become ruthless abusers. Merlin, and it is only now that I am learning my lesson after my dalliances with power. When sex becomes a tool of power, Harry, then the consequences are..." He moistened his lips and clenched his fingers around Harry's. "The consequences are disastrous. Lucius Malfoy used sex to coax me into...Voldemort's...group of Death Eaters. I do not blame him. I blame myself. I was a touch-deprived fool. I fell for him and the bits of flattery he threw at me, just like a starving dog chasing after the meanest of scraps. Ah, he was a master in wielding sex. I let myself be seduced and reduced to such a humiliating state, although I refused to acknowledge it as such, that he just had to open his robes and I would fall upon my knees to fellate him. Afterwards, he would simply walk out of the room, adjusting his robes."

Harry had become very pale. /He abused you./

Severus shrugged. "I let him. He never hurt me physically."

"No! He made you think that way. This was never your fault! He hurt you beyond description./

"I know."

/But you do not feel that way./

Severus ground his teeth. "That is why, Mr Potter, I hate feelings. They poison one's life. In addition, I detest sex. It is the source of evil."

Harry chafed Severus's icy fingers.

/I disagree with you,/ he said softly, his heart almost breaking at the depth of Severus's suffering.

/I am starting to disagree with some of my own convictions,/ Severus admitted telepathically, expressing in thought what he dared not say aloud. /Yet I still define sex as a way of ultimate manipulation, a weapon to breach body and mind, and rip both into shreds. It is a cruel tool of penetration./

/Severus, isn't there much more to intimacy than physical penetrative sex?/

Severus sniffed scornfully. "Anyone who is asinine enough to reduce the vast domain of sex to the mere primal act of penetration deserves to be hexed off this planet. Unfortunately, this would result in the abrupt dislocation of the vast majority of mankind."

/Well, then, I guess I'd remain on the planet./

They sat like that for a while, holding hands, Severus taking solace in his husband's presence. When the light was turned off in the Potter-Snape bedroom, Harry's bed remained empty.

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Severus woke up to a sound of soft humming. Harry could not speak, but he could hum rather nicely. The young man had managed to outwake him yet again and was ready for the day, sporting blue jeans – Severus's dark eyes lingered on his husband's backside as Harry bent to pull on his socks – and one of Mrs Weasley's jumpers. He moved, brushing his long hair out of his face irritably. Harry turned around.

/Good morning,/ he said, smiling.

"Mh hm," was all Severus said as he marched out of the room to the bathroom. Harry grinned widely. Severus was certainly more of a night person than a morning one.

In the bathroom, soaping himself assiduously, Severus replayed the pleasure he took in watching Harry and simply _being_ around him in his mind; then he frowned, curled his lip and batted at his hardening organ; finally, in desperation, he yielded to the call of desire and brought himself to the edge within a minute, then to his knees as he fell off that edge with a sharp cry, his seed mingling with the water and flowing down the drain. He was gasping loudly, his hair hanging in his face, crouching on all fours in the shower stall, his sated organ once again quiescent and snug between his thighs. His face was still flushed when he left his cubicle – only to find Hermione and Ron standing in the corridor, looking simultaneously amused and bemused. With horror, Severus realised that he had forgotten his Silencing Charm. He, an outstanding duellist, a spy of many years, probably even superior to Voldemort in mental magic, had forgotten the simplest and most important of spells.

"The anguish triggered by a stubbed toe, Miss Granger and Mr Weasley, is quite considerable," he stated.

"Oh...Yes, of course, it is very unpleasant, Professor," Hermione said composedly.

"I'm sure a charm or potion can set it right," Ron added, sounding like he was trying not to laugh. Severus noticed Hermione's elbow digging into her boyfriend's ribs. He gave them a curt nod and left. Ron turned and raised an eyebrow.

"And I've got stubbed ribs," he said.

"You know, I do hope he involves Harry in stubbing his toes," Hermione remarked. Ron burst out laughing.

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Phineas Nigellus was limping when Remus drew back the curtains in response to a series of pointed coughs from the canvas.

"Where is your great-granddaughter?" Remus inquired politely. Phineas sniffed and lowered himself gingerly into his armchair.

"I think the Headmaster is having her erased from the world of wizarding art." He paused for a few instants before adding: "She certainly did have her merits, Walburga."

Remus looked disgusted. "She may have been rather opinionated and antisocial in her views, but you speak of her as if she were an object."

Phineas sneered. "Women _are_ obj-"

A mane of red hair appeared next to Remus. Ginny stared at Phineas.

"You were saying?" she asked sweetly, tapping her wand against her palm. Phineas laughed.

"If you had been a daughter of mine, I'd have had you married off long ago to a sensible wizard who'd have kept you under control, you Mudblood-loving slut."

Two things happened at once. Ginny fired off a powerful Bat-Bogey Hex, and a bang from Remus's wand singed Phineas's lap. The howls of pain were deafening; a few seconds later, all that was left on the canvas, besides the smoking furniture, were a group of formidable Bat-Bogeys and a haze of smoke.

"Misogynist pig," Remus and Ginny commented at the same time, each taking a portion of the curtain and drawing it closed.

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In the spacious room where important conferences were held, Severus gently corrected Harry's wrist position.

"You hold the sai like this," he instructed.

It turned out to be one of the most erotic mornings Harry had ever experienced. Severus was in constant physical proximity, their hands touching a lot, necessitated by handling the sai; and every now and then, their bodies would brush when Severus stepped to and away from Harry. Their eye contact was intense and lingering. Needless to say, Harry found it quite difficult to concentrate, in spite of his pleasure in the sai. The sai session was followed by several rounds of Legilimency and Occlumency to test Harry's mental balancing skills. Harry struggled hard, anxious to prevent Severus from gleaning even a hint about his sexual attraction towards him. The sizzling eye contact between them aroused him, and he was relieved that Mrs Weasley's jumper reached well past the placket of his jeans. Severus was equally grateful to his robes. The Head of Slytherin was dismayed at his body's reactions to the charms of his husband. He had considered himself well past the age for such nonsense; but his body insisted on tingling and prickling in the most embarrassing areas. He actually longed to rub himself against the wall or quite literally take himself into hand, although the mortification of being overheard by Harry's two best friends was still fresh on his mind; but above all, he wished to kiss Harry and seduce him out of those blue jeans and sweater and into his arms. And maybe, just maybe, with Harry sharing his bed so stubbornly and willingly, he would be able to do so.

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	39. Chapter 38

**On February 9th 2013, there was a bug which prevented readers from accessing newly posted chapters. This was due to a server bug; Fanfiction net Support got back to me to confirm the resolution of the bug, so you should be able to access this chapter normally now :-)  
When I noticed the issue, I updated my blog The Snarry Files. If you'd like to read some extra info on my Snarry stories, random snippets from my insane life and notifications about bugs on fanfiction net (provided I notice them and it's not bedtime for me), feel free to nip over to my blog. The link is on my profile page.  
**  
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**CHAPTER 38**

A/N: Finally back again after a tetanus-booster-sore arm last month and shin splints (the result of too much rope jumping) this month!

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_I was emboldened by Phineas Nigellus's forceful departure from our room and my successful bed-sharing tactics. As for Phineas's statement which resulted in his eviction... I could not help wondering what it would feel like if my hand were to replace yours, in a manner of speaking. Then I recalled what you had told me about Lucius Malfoy. I felt sick to my stomach and ashamed of my growing sexual interest in you, as if it was something dirty which would harm you and make you push me away. _

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During the afternoon of Boxing Day, Remus, Tonks and the Weasleys closeted themselves away in the meeting room – no doubt to discuss news about Voldemort's eerie Christmas silence. Harry, too, could sense it – everyone could: it was the much feared calm before the storm, and the Order of the Phoenix was anxious to use every moment to discuss plans and reach out to potential allies.

Harry joined his friends downstairs while Severus fine-tuned the schedule for Harry's sai lessons in the comfortable silence of their room.

Ron grinned widely when he saw Harry, then coughed and pretended to concentrate very hard on their school homework. Hermione's expression was a combination of smugness and amusement.

/What's up?/ Harry asked.

"Homework," Ron replied.

/Something tells me there's more than homework involved here. Why are you two looking so smug?/

Hermione cleared her throat, focusing on her book.

"Oh really, it's nothing, you nosy fellow," she said briskly.

/Nosy? So something is up,/ Harry said, green eyes sparkling.

"Something _was_ most certainly up this morning all right," Ron murmured, his ears turning red from suppressed laughter. Hermione glared at him.

"You're so disgusting sometimes, Ronald!" she hissed.

/Is this about sex?/ Harry asked bluntly.

"What? No, no, no, not at all!" Ron said far too quickly. Harry knew that it was horribly Slytherin of him, but he had the feeling that Severus was somehow involved in this odd situation; he stared into Ron's blue eyes and stretched out his Legilimentic feelers, the way Severus had taught him. Five seconds later, he was in possession of the information he wanted, and he dropped his eyes. Hermione, however, was not fooled; she opened her mouth as if to protest; then she changed her mind and shot Harry an accusing stare instead. Harry felt his face heat up when he realised what Severus had been up to in the bathroom and that his two best friends had been accidental witnesses. He was suddenly aware of a spike of desire in the depth of his stomach; then he recalled what Lucius Malfoy had done to Severus during the short time they had both attended Hogwarts together, and his desire turned to corrosive acid, making him sick with self-disgust and anger.

"Harry, what is it, mate?" Ron asked, catching his friend's expression. Harry hesitated. This was Severus's secret, and a deeply personal one at that.

"Something about Professor Snape?" Hermione guessed. Harry smiled; his friends knew him too well by now. He nodded, then decided to entrust them with the distressing information Severus had revealed to him.

/I am going to tell you something which you by all means have to keep to yourself. It is extremely personal./

"You know that you can trust us, mate," Ron said softly, pushing his homework aside. Hermione snapped her book shut.

/Severus was sexually abused by Lucius Malfoy. He was probably eleven at the very most, and that damned bastard seventeen or eighteen. He manipulated Severus into thinking that there was nothing wrong with...with what he made Severus...do for him./

Ron and Hermione stared at him, horrified. A long silence followed.

"He was only a child. He grew up without love, and that Malfoy pig took advantage of that," Ron whispered finally. It was the very first time he was speaking of Severus with compassion and defensiveness. Hermione was shaking her head slowly, her eyes blank, teeth gnawing at her lip.

"It's cruel. It's so cruel!" she burst out. She gazed at Harry, and her blazing expression softened. "But you...you are there. He trusts you now."

Harry sighed. /If he realises how I feel about him, he'll push me away./

"You're no longer the fifteen-year-old hothead you used to be, charging around like an impatient bull. Be patient. Give him the time he needs," Hermione said.

/An impatient bull? Why, thanks!/

"You've got loads of stuff to work out between you, but if anyone can do it, you can," Ron stated.

/Why is it that so many people have more faith in me than I have in myself?/

"Because you're Harry Potter, for Merlin's sake," Ron laughed.

/Sometimes I wish I wasn't./

"But you are, and it's just fine that way," Hermione said. Her tone reminded him of Luna's serene manner, and he smiled as he thanked her for the compliment.

/I wonder if I should tell Severus that you know about what-/

"Harry, I don't think that's a very good idea," Ron said.

"Sometimes, the act of sharing secrets about other people needs to be regarded as a secret itself," Hermione pointed out. Harry grinned a little.

/Yeah, true./

"I know the two of you are getting...er...friendly, but just think of the Pensieve incident. That should be enough of a deterrent," Ron added gravely.

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/You're very tense, Severus,/ Harry remarked when he joined Severus in bed after their respective showers. The Potions Master was becoming used to sharing what he considered the most unlikely spaces and places with Harry, who had turned his own abandoned bed into a turquoise couch, much to Severus's disgust.

"I will not tolerate such a flamboyant colour within viewing range," he had barked.

/Please don't tell me that you're thinking in terms of clichéd gendered colours./

Severus had glared at him, nostrils quivering. "Of course not! But you should be strongly acquainted with my dislike for shrill pompous colours by now."

/I like turquoise. If you don't, then just look away,/ Harry had insisted quite stubbornly. Too exasperated to argue with his adult but nevertheless teenage husband, Severus had given up and turned away.

Harry stretched out his hand and placed it on Severus's neck; the man seemed to suffer from a steel pole embedded in his back, since he was sitting upright as a lamppost in bed instead of lying down.

"Kindly remove your hand," Severus said curtly, dislodging Harry's palm with a brisk shake of his head.

/Sorry. But you're really tense./

"Are you a Muggle physiotherapist?"

/Physiotherapy does loads of good, you know. And there's no need to jump down my throat, Severus./

"If you don't want to be around me, then you can always transfigure that loathsome couch back into a bed," was the chilly answer.

/How about a massage? A neck rub? Or a back rub? Maybe both?/ Harry suggested, choosing to ignore Severus's snappiness. He flung back the bedcover and pushed at Severus's side gently. The black eyes narrowed and glared at him.

"What exactly are you doing?"

/Trying to nudge you into a lying position. On your stomach, of course, that way I can reach your back./

"This is absurd. I do not require a massage! I have never been the recipient of such a redundant-"

/What! Are you telling me that you've never been massaged before?/

Severus continued glaring at him. Harry frowned.

/Well, are you going to turn over or not?/

"Mr Potter, you are my husband, not my paid subordinate or anything of the sort."

/Oh, for heaven's sake!/ Harry pushed at Severus's side again and was rewarded with stifled oaths and the desired change of position.

/Uhm, Severus, you may want to remove your shirt first./

Some more grumbling and a spell later, the shirt flew to the Snape-Potter wardrobe. Harry Summoned a bottle of arnica oil from his trunk. Every Quidditch player he knew was in possession of this oil, and Madam Pomfrey valued it highly for its muscle-relaxing properties. Ron and he often massaged each other's backs in the evenings after Quidditch training or fatiguing school lessons. Harry also strongly suspected that there was a rather large grain of truth in the cliché of certain oils being popular for natural but embarrassing activities in teenage-filled dormitories...and not only for teenagers, or in dormitories.

Harry unscrewed the cap of the bottle and poured out a generous amount of oil, warming it up in his palms; then he bent over Severus's back. The skin was hairless, smooth and pale, with two or three tiny birthmarks. The man's diet had picked up somewhat (Harry tried not to hope that it was because of the marked improvements in their relationship), and his body had shed a small portion of that unhealthy thin appearance.

Harry skilfully rubbed Severus's taut muscles in gentle circles, first clockwise, then anti-clockwise, and back again. Severus was surprised at how erotic these simple touches were – he knew that the genital area was only one of hundreds of erogenous zones and that the skin as a whole was one huge sensitive organ, but knowledge was one thing and actual experience another. It was only now that he was discovering how sensitive his back and neck were. Massages and caresses had never been part of his past sexual encounters with various men. Shame flooded him as he recalled how he had slept with another man out of pure defiance on his and Harry's wedding day. His shoulders stiffened.

/Relax,/ Harry's Telepathic voice whispered into his ear, and indeed, the youth had approached that rather lovely mouth to his ear. Severus felt deeply grateful that he was lying on his stomach. He huffed into his pillow as Harry kneaded his shoulders and slowly slid his hands down Severus's arms. The hair on these tenderly caressed zones immediately stood attention. As Severus's heart raced and his groin filled with blood, he discovered that Harry was a master of touching. He made shivers engulf the whole of Severus's body by simply trailing one finger down his spine. He ground his teeth as he imagined Harry's lithe body pressed against his, those teasing fingers wrapped around his-

/Relax, Severus,/ Harry reminded him again, and Severus obediently let himself go limp – except, of course, for the hardness between his thighs. _That_ was currently beyond his control, and when Harry resumed his massage, he bit down a groan as the head of his swollen organ rubbed against the mattress through his clothes. His testicles were hurting. He was in exquisite torture, now deliberately grinding his hips against the bed under the pretence of letting his body succumb to Harry's wonderful hands and follow the circular patterns they were kneading into his back. It was the very first time that Severus was thoroughly enjoying his sexual being; and when Harry stopped a good half an hour later and gave him a roguish smile and deep look, Severus had the distinct impression that this type of enjoyment had been precisely one of Harry's intentions. He was still aroused, close to that delicious brink. Fortunately, Harry left the room to pay a visit to the twins' den (Fred and George had invited everyone for a night show of their latest joke articles), leaving Severus to resolve the uncomfortable situation underneath the bed covers.

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	40. Chapter 39

**CHAPTER 39**

A/N: Yesterday, I was happily astonished by the reception of the 2000th review for this Snarry fic! A big thank you and a squashy hug to each and every one of you, and a box of virtual Swiss chocolate for bookworm0902, who submitted the 2000th review! :-D

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_When we sleep, the subconscious often dominates the mind and body. Maybe "sometimes" is wrong. Maybe it's all the time. Who knows? I wonder if sleep researchers get any sleep? _

_I digress. You have always liked to have everything under control, from the smallest twitch of your eyebrow to the students' behaviour in Potions class; but when we sleep, we all too often have to let go of our control. I can never remember the exact moment I fall asleep. I don't think anyone can. It is like something alien rather than a part of us which takes control._

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Severus lay in bed, sleepy and sexually sated for the moment, one arm cushioning his head, his dark hair messy, the black eyes staring unwinkingly into the depths of his mind's landscape as he pondered his marriage with Harry James Potter. He had been ready with the worst expectations, ready for an eternally gruelling time with a mutinous teenager, ready for hatred and contempt spewed at him every second of the day by said teenager; and after their first sexual intercourse at the very latest, he had been absolutely convinced that Harry would hate him more than ever. He found himself utterly bewildered instead: his bleak expectations were constantly being defied; hopes and feelings he had always regarded as inappropriate were invading his cynical heart with a vengeance, and his sexual identity was undergoing a bittersweet awakening. Harry was mature and calm, unlike his explosive fifteen-year-old self, but not meek for even a second; on the contrary: he challenged Severus every day with quiet humour and equally serene daring, disarming his biting remarks by means of...of what exactly? Severus sighed loudly and glanced at the clock on the bedside table. Almost eleven o'clock. If Harry didn't return by midnight, he'd turn off the light and go to sleep. He imagined Harry climbing into his bed with that feline grace, his foot brushing against Severus's...His cool logical mind was at a complete loss when it came to handling his relationship with Harry. That infernal meddler of a Headmaster was probably right. He was going to have to let go of his crisp logical conclusions and take things as they came instead of planning strategies, torn as he was between pushing Harry away and yielding to the nearly absurd dance of desire they were both performing around each other; and with Harry becoming an increasingly skilled Telepath, he frequently had to use all his control to steady his Occlumentic shields whenever he tested Harry's Legilimency skills during their sessions of mental magic. Harry was always reluctant to invade Severus's mind; in addition, maturity and the fact that he knew Severus so well prevented the youth from succumbing to stinging comments – something Severus did only rarely after Harry had saved his life.

Severus stretched out his hand and reached for a Muggle classic of English literature.

It was twenty-two minutes and seven seconds past eleven when Harry returned to their room, flushed and grinning, clutching a bag of joke articles; it was evident that he had enjoyed the impromptu invitation to the twins' stronghold. Outside, a strong wind had sprung up, heralding a snow storm.

/Hi, Severus! Still awake?/

"Obviously, unless sleeping people are able to read sitting upright in bed with the light on," Severus replied acidly, putting away his book.

/I wonder why such a logical explanation didn't occur to me,/ Harry joked cheerfully. Severus was silent, his temper deflated by Harry's refusal to be offended by his sullenness. Harry carefully placed the bag on the turquoise couch and proceeded to change into pyjamas in front of his husband, stripping down casually to his underwear and humming contentedly to himself. Severus averted his face pointedly and stared at the ceiling. Once Harry was ready in his nightwear, he slid underneath the bedclothes.

/Ready to turn off the light?/ he asked.

"Yes."

/Good night, Severus./

"Good night, Harry."

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Severus could hear Harry's soft breathing in the dark.

/You're tense again./ Damn the boy for being so determined that he could communicate effortlessly with Severus sans eye contact! And for possessing that so-called sixth sense in extraordinary quantities.

"Yes," he repeated dully.

/Want another massage?/ was the next teasing question. Severus swallowed, thinking of his erection rubbing against the mattress and his floating so close to all-consuming release during the last moments of the massage. He had been dying to slip a helping hand between his thighs in order to relieve his delicious torment, but that, of course, had been out of the question...until Harry had left for the joke show.

"No, thank you. I appreciate your ministrations to the maximum, but now I wish to sleep."

/Thanks, Severus, I'm glad you enjoyed the massage. Good night./

"Good night."

Severus almost snapped into a sitting position when Harry's hand cupped his knee.

"Stop that!" Severus hissed. Harry stilled; then a voicelessly uttered Lumos spell created a soft globe of light which hovered above their heads. Severus cursed inwardly. Harry and he could both be tremendously stubborn.

/Severus. What is wrong?/

"Nothing whatsoever. If you have an issue, kindly retire to that hideous couch of yours."

/Don't do this, Severus./

"Do what?"

/Don't push me away./

"I am not doing anything of the sort, Potter. _This_ is pushing an exasperating individual away," Severus spat, now pushing at Harry. Harry, however, resisted, gently but firmly arresting Severus's forearm in his grip. They wrestled with each other briefly until Harry's knee accidentally – was it really accidental? – brushed Severus's crotch, sending hot sparks of lust throughout Severus's body. Breathing heavily, he seized Harry's wrists and flipped them over so that he was on top and Harry underneath him. Wordlessly, panting through his teeth, Severus ground their hips together on noticing that Harry was in the same predicament as he was. He kept Harry's wrists pinned at his, Harry's, sides, then proceeded, with a non-verbal wandless spell, to strip Harry naked. Without preparing himself or Harry, he ripped and raped his way into the young body, ignoring the screams of pain, struggling and kicking underneath him. Moisture which he knew was a mixture of blood and pre-ejaculatory fluid coated his organ. Harry was sobbing and pushing at him. Severus backhanded him across the face and continued his cruel thrusts, pressing Harry into the mattress roughly, fingers digging brutally into Harry's wrists. Blood was trickling down his shaft. Its metallic smell filled the air.

The door to their room suddenly opened. Severus looked over his shoulder without stopping. Lucius Malfoy was leaning against the doorframe, Death Easter mask in one hand, sleek golden hair framing his face.

"Tsk tsk tsk, Severus, so untidy," he said, laughing. Harry was still, as if he had passed out.

"Stop it," Severus snapped.

Lucius's laughter increased to a deafening volume. Severus looked at him, then at Harry's death-like face. A huge blood stain was spreading across the bedclothes.

Severus began to scream.

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/Severus!/

Severus opened his eyes with a gasp. A globe of light hung over them, and Harry's anxious face was close to his. Severus's heart and mind raced, then he went limp. Harry's hands were on his shoulders, gentle and warm.

/You were having a bad dream./

Severus reached up and touched Harry's face. His wand was on the bedside table, sitting familiarly next to Harry's holly wand. Side by side, like he and Harry were lying in bed. Side by side, going through their marriage step by step in spite of Voldemort's wrath, finding such strange and sweet solace in each other. He was at Grimmauld Place, a turquoise couch was in one corner, and Harry was in bed with him.

"I apologise for disturbing your sleep," he murmured, caressing Harry's cheek briefly, awkwardly, endlessly relieved that there was no trace of a slap on that tender face.

/You did not do anything of the sort,/ Harry reassured him.

"Did I...Was I violent in my sleep? Did I...attack you?"

/No, you were moaning, then you started to trash around and thrust out your hands, as if to push someone away, but you didn't touch me./

He lay down on his side, reaching out for Severus's cold clammy hand. Severus, too, rolled over onto his side so that he was facing his husband. The Lumos orb floated over them like gentle moonlight. Due to their strong Telepathic bond – and not only that bond – their minds were open to each other without establishing a conscious channel; they could hear the whispers of each other's thoughts, too faint to be distinct and fully comprehensible, but soothing and gentle enough to make Severus relax.

/I dreamt that I hurt someone...close to me. Hurt them with words spoken in anger,/ Severus answered the question he could glean from Harry's mind-whispers and those beautiful green eyes. He refrained from telling Harry about the horrible rape. The very thought sickened him, making his stomach lurch with nausea. He guessed that his guilt about their consummation was still haunting him and had decided to manifest itself in the shape of this nightmare.

/Did this happen in real life as well?/

/Conflicts are bound to occur at an above-average rate to a man of my disposition./

A small smile touched Harry's lips, and he slid his fingers over Severus's knuckles.

/Were you able to resolve your disagreement?/

Severus studied Harry's face closely. He was instinctively sure that Harry knew. Just knew.

/Yes. Yes, I think so. The other person is very...good-natured. Not in the rather masochistic manner of the biblical turn-the-other-cheek motto, but they are still extraordinarily kind. I am not used to kindness./

Another warm smile was forthcoming. /That's good, then. You know, maybe you're simply not used to accepting kindness because you mistake kindness for condescension./

/That is true./

/Indeed,/ Harry observed teasingly, for "indeed" was one of Severus's favourite words.

"Thank you for waking me," Severus said aloud.

/You're welcome, Severus./

They lay comfortably in bed, facing each other, hands clasped. Outside, the wind was still howling, driving snow and sleet against the shuttered windows. They listened to the storm and each other's breathing, locked in an intense gaze.

"Sleep. You're still growing," Severus spoke finally. Harry chuckled. His eyes were sparkling with humour. No hurt. No anger. Just a bad dream.

/Okay. But only if you close your eyes first./

"Hm. Very well." He obeyed, retaining Harry's hand and cherishing its warmth. The Lumos orb, reacting to a spell Harry cast on it, grew progressively fainter until it extinguished itself. Severus fell asleep quickly from sheer mental exhaustion; Harry remained awake for half an hour longer, wondering how he could alleviate Severus's suffering at least a little bit; but in the end, it was up to Severus to confront the ghosts of his past – and to let go.

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	41. Chapter 40

**CHAPTER 40**

**A/N: Back again after a lot of busy-ness! **

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_After that night, I was hoping we'd have a nice conflict-free day. Yeah. Right. _

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Severus decided that he was becoming used to Harry rising before he did. His husband was sitting on the turquoise couch, practising with the sai. One blade slid from his hand, but Harry caught it in time and tried to swirl it around, a frown of concentration creasing his forehead.

/Start slowly, then increase the speed of the rotations. Use only your wrist,/ Severus instructed from the bed. Harry looked up, startled; then he laughed.

/Good morning, Severus. How long have you been awake?/

"Since I stopped sleeping."

Harry grinned widely as Severus climbed out of bed, slid into his housecoat and left the room for his morning shower. Harry rotated the sai swiftly in his hand, trying to follow Severus's instructions. It wasn't long before Severus returned with impeccably straight robes and neatly combed hair. He hesitated, then joined his husband on the couch. The piece of furniture was really very comfortable – Harry's Transfiguration skills were quite good. Never in a million years would he have dreamt that he would end up confronting and processing the pain from his harsh past with Harry Potter's help. Harry placed the sai on his knees and leant into Severus, nose touching the hollow of his neck, inhaling deeply while Severus remained still as a statue, somewhat confused.

/The olfactory properties of your jugular area are truly intoxicating, Severus./

"Are you trying to tell me that my bodily odour appeals to your nasal apparatus?"

/Yeah. Using your vocabulary style. You do smell sexy, you know./

Severus's mouth quirked slightly. He rather enjoyed Harry's teasing and bantering.

"Your attempt was quite successful. And allow me to return the compliment."

/Indeed,/ Harry echoed his characteristic expression. They locked eyes in a deep stare, recalling the moments following Severus's nightmare. Severus touched Harry's cheek briefly.

"The others must be gathering for breakfast," he said. They rose with an accidental but lingering brush of their knuckles.

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After breakfast, Harry and Remus went outside for a walk, ensuring beforehand that no suspicious individuals were near the premises.

/I miss Sirius,/ Harry observed sadly, looking back at the house.

"So do I. I think of him every day."

They walked on for a few minutes in silence.

/I am afraid,/ Harry said suddenly. /Afraid of Voldemort hurting the ones I love…hurting people in general./

"Admitting fear is an important component of courage, Harry. We are all afraid, but we have to face our fear. Do you recall what I told you about your Boggart when you were a third-year student?"

/That I feared…fear./

"Yes. But you are a fighter. You have always confronted your fears. Voldemort refuses to acknowledge his fears by desperately striving to become the most powerful sorcerer in the world...and the first truly immortal person, no matter how cursed such a life might be. He fears you and your allies."

/He tried to kill Severus when he realised the truth about Severus's true loyalties./ Harry's eyes flashed with anger as he recalled Severus's excruciating pain.

"Severus is one of the most powerful and talented wizards I have ever met." Remus smiled a little. "Your husband can be a formidable enemy…and friend."

Harry laughed. /Yes, he can be. He seems detached and unapproachable on the surface, but he is fiery and passionate at heart./

"Sounds quite Gryffindorish."

/Oh, you had better not tell him that!/

Chatting and joking, the two wizards turned back towards Grimmauld Place, where Harry was promptly welcomed by an impatient Severus Snape.

"Your next sai lesson starts in ten minutes and the same number of seconds," he observed frostily. Remus slipped away with a rather Marauderish smile, leaving the spouses alone.

/We can start now, if you wish,/ Harry suggested happily.

"Such eagerness for lessons with me? Well, so be it," Severus remarked sarcastically, stalking off to the room reserved for Harry's tuition.

This particular lesson was highly complex due to the introduction of the Fire Spell. Severus could effortlessly set the blades of the sai aflame while they soared through the air. The flames could not damage the blades, but they most certainly could seriously injure an enemy.

Harry had yet to learn how to handle and fling the sai properly, but Severus pushed him so hard that Harry began to lose his temper.

/Severus, look, I can only add the Flame Spell once I've properly mastered the handling of the sai, and that will take some time./

"We do not have enough time," Severus snapped. "The Dark Lord – Voldemort – grows stronger by the day. What others learn in months you need to master in days."

/It's impossible!/

Severus ground his teeth and strode up so close to Harry that their faces nearly touched.

"Kindly refrain from contradicting me, Potter."

/So it is 'Potter' now, isn't it?/ Harry spat. They glowered at each other. Severus stepped away.

"You will throw the sai, and I will cast the Fire Spell. Then we will switch roles, and I will fling the sai while you perform the spell. Are you amenable to this arrangement?"

/I…Yes. Thanks./

Both wizards, especially Harry, were exhausted by the end of the lesson; but Severus, who recalled that Harry's Apparition exam was scheduled after the Christmas holidays, insisted on Harry rehearsing his Apparition routine. Following the updated Apparition rules, witches and wizards of age could practise Apparition under the supervision of a licenced Ministry employee during the holidays. This could either be done at the Ministry itself or, if the student had a relative or family member who was a Ministry employee, at home, under the supervision of said employee. Nymphadora Tonks enthusiastically undertook the holiday tutelage of Harry, Ron and Hermione.

"Witches who are pregnant in their sixth month and later are strongly advised to abstain from Apparating. It can lead to miscarriages," Tonks pointed out.

"Not something we'll have to worry about at this stage," Hermione said dismissively while Ron observed that Splinching was already quite a serious miscarriage in its own right.

Ginny, on hearing about the risks of miscarriage during Apparition, was equally unperturbed and quite cheerful.

"I am all for a childfree life," she stated.

"You're only sixteen; you'll change your mind later," Ron remarked.

"No, I won't," Ginny said firmly.

"What have you got against children?" Ron said aggressively.

"What have you got against _not_ having children?" Ginny snapped back. Harry turned.

/Having kids or not having them is a very personal decision. There's nothing wrong at all with being childfree,/ he said firmly. /Whatever you choose to do, you'll be fine, Ginny./

Ginny smiled at him and kissed him on the cheek. "Thanks, Harry."

Ron looked embarrassed. "Sorry, Gin. I guess it's just that we're quite a bunch of siblings, so we were a lot of kids growing up together…"

"And it comes across as a novelty for someone who's from a child-rich family to opt for a childfree life," Ginny said wisely.

"Yeah," Ron said.

"You know, Ron, a woman is still a woman without being a mother or a wife and all those roles," Hermione added.

"True." Ron looked at Harry. "Could you imagine…you know…adopting a kid or something? You know…later, once we've kicked Voldemort's sorry ass?"

Harry laughed, then he became pensive. /I cannot speak for Severus and who knows where I'll be later in life…or death? A child is a very serious responsibility. So easily made the traditional way, so difficult to raise all the way to adulthood. I guess it's really impossible to say./

"Only time can tell," Ron concluded.

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/Severus?/

"Hm?" Severus grunted into his coffee cup.

/Could you imagine adopting a child in another ten years or so?/

Severus choked. A pool of coffee accumulated around the bottom of the cup, and Severus fixated his grinning husband with a basilisk stare.

"Mr Potter, your sense of humour is quite atrocious sometimes."

/Seriously, could you imagine it? Ron, Hermione and Ginny were discussing about it./

"I would be much obliged to you if you updated me on their views of the matter."

Harry suppressed another grin at his husband's lofty tone.

/Ginny doesn't want kids, I'm pretty sure Ron would like some and Hermione is neutral./

"Neutral? Undecided, I assume."

/Yes./

"And what about _your_ opinion, Harry?"

/Well…having your own child and other people's children are two very different matters. I am inclined to go along with Ginny's viewpoint. Or maybe I feel that way because of the impending war and…well…some stuff from the past./

"Miss Weasley is a very sensible young lady. I applaud her for her courage to voice what is unfortunately still an unwelcome stance in today's world, war or no war."

/Then again, if no one wanted to have children, the human race would die out./

"And would that be such a tragedy?" Severus asked darkly, crossing his arms and staring at Harry.

/There are still things worth living for,/ Harry remarked, thinking of his increasing closeness with Severus.

"Kindly furnish me with an example."

/Our bond, for instance,/ Harry said boldly. Severus flushed.

/I mean it,/ Harry added – just in case Severus was under the impression that he, Harry, was being sarcastic.

Severus's lip curled. "How very Gryffindorish."

/Oh, I quite agree. Remus remarked this morning that you were quite Gryffindorish at heart./

Severus glared at him. "I think," he said stiffly, "that I shall help myself to another cup of coffee."

/Sure, go ahead,/ Harry said, amused, /and I think I'll treat myself to a cup of that lovely tea you gave me for Christmas./

The two wizards went downstairs to the kitchen for their impromptu cups of refreshing beverages, where they accidentally dislodged a rather dishevelled-looking Tonks and Remus. From the looks of it, Tonks had been sitting on the kitchen table with Remus making love to her in a standing position.

"Why can't you confine your coital activities to one place, preferably your room?" Severus bellowed over the couple's profuse apologies. Harry caught Tonks's eye. He could not help smiling at her. Her mouth twitched slightly as she smoothed her robes and left the kitchen, Remus following her quickly with his ears as red as Ron's.

Muttering, Severus cast several cleaning spells over the kitchen – to the extent that some plaster peeled off the walls and ceiling.

/Uhm, the kitchen will collapse./

"It can only be hoped that the result of their trysts will not be a Metamorphlupus."

/A what?/

"A cross between a Metamorphmagus and a werewolf. Oh, for Merlin's sake, Potter, there is no such thing as a Metamorphlupus!"

/But if both parents have shape-shifting properties-/

"A Metamorphmagus can shape-shift at will. A werewolf is forced to transform. So yes, a child would very probably possess shape-shifting abilities, but probably does not mean definitely. By the way: the improved version of the Wolfsbane Potion will be discussed in two days. Albus will be visiting Grimmauld Place for the conference. You are invited to participate."

Harry's eyes sparkled. /Of course I want to participate!/

"I thought you might want to." Severus gave the kitchen table a black look and submitted it to another cleaning spell.

/Severus, you have already cast ten cleaning spells on the whole kitchen./

"Sex is filthy," Severus stated coldly.

/That's not true./

Severus uttered a scornful laugh. "That you of all people should come to such a sentimental conclusion after-" he broke off, bit his lip and rummaged in the cupboard for his coffee beans and Harry's tea.

/I'm sure it can be very, er, nice when both parties are fully consensual./

"Both? Mr Potter, the sexual constellations range from solo to groups," Severus corrected his husband, pouring water into the kettle.

/So have you participated in, uhm, group…activity?/

Instead of losing his temper, Severus merely sniffed. "Once, when I was thirty. Three people including myself. Didn't like it. Too much shoving, one person drunk, another drugged, the third both. Please refrain from asking me which participant I was. Waste of money, too."

Harry's face tautened. /Oh. You went to a-/

"Quite right. Do you still think sex is squeaky clean, Potter?" And with that scornful question, Severus marched out of the kitchen and picked up a book, shutting Harry out of his thoughts. The water in the kettle began to boil. Suddenly feeling tired and drained, Harry sat down at the kitchen table where Tonks and Remus had been making love a few minutes ago.

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	42. Chapter 41

**CHAPTER 41**

_I still remember that Special Night we spent at Grimmauld Place. Happiness and grief meeting at the same time. _

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Remus and Tonks made it back to their room only with difficulty, torn as they were between embarrassment, bursts of laughter and arousal. Once they did manage to stumble inside their room, the last sentiment took over again, Remus sliding his hand underneath his partner's robes, feeling the sweet moisture from their interrupted coitus. Preparing himself again to avoid the conception of Severus's Metamorphlupus, Remus resumed their lovemaking, his movements tender and caring; and the passion in Tonks's eyes matched his own. When she came, she held him tightly her arms, kissing his neck, urging him to follow her into that strange all-consuming pleasure.

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Fred and George, who were testing a fresh batch of Extendable Eyes, hastily yanked back the magical extensions.

"They're at it _again_," Fred whispered to his brother.

"What a bore," George yawned. "And Hermione won't let Ron into her room even though he keeps trying to sneak inside at night. Let's see what's up with Harry and Snape when they get back to their room."

"Nothing, I bet," Fred said mournfully. "Haven't you noticed how they're kind of dancing around each other? It's absurd!"

"Listen, bro, Snape is not the kind you just…you know…jump."

"I wouldn't like to be in Harry's shoes for a billion Galleons. Rotten childhood, Voldemort after him, forced into marriage with Snape...You've got to admire the guy, he's only seventeen and he's such a fighter."

"He's family. He's our youngest brother, is Harry. You know, Fred, I wish there was something we could do to make them see sense. The two of them are mooning over each other against all rhyme and reason-"

"I'm not sure about the rhyme and reason part, bro. Methinks that crazy codger of a Headmaster knew exactly what he was doing when he got them married. But he can't plan when the two of them jump each other, right?"

"Right. So to return to my original question: what shall we do to help them?"

"Just leave them alone, they'll figure out stuff themselves, they've been doing quite well so far," a bright voice came from in front of their door. Horror-struck, Fred bounded to his feet and threw open the door to find Ginny loitering on the threshold, one hand in the pocket of her jeans, the other holding an Extendable Ear.

"From where did you get that? I thought Mom had confiscated all of them!" George exclaimed.

"I'm your sister. That should be quite sufficient as an answer," Ginny snorted, settling herself on one of the twins' bed. "And you really shouldn't be spying on other people when they have sex."

"Oy! The Extendable Ears and Eyes can't predict what they're going to come across. If they happen to catch Remus and Tonks, er, enjoying each other, then that's not our fault."

"R-i-i-i-ight," Ginny drawled.

"Anyway, you were saying that we should _not_ help Harry?"

"Harry's doing fine on his own. Any help, especially from you two, would be considered interference," Ginny said soberly. "This is something we've got to stay out of. Haven't you noticed how special their bond is? It's like they're destined for each other. Like it had been recorded in another Prophecy or something. It's so insane that it's actually logical. Does that make sense?"

"Logic never makes sense to us, sis," Fred said.

"You sound like Dumbles," George added.

"Anyway, this dance they're both doing is _their_ type of foreplay, you see," Ginny clarified. Fred guffawed and George looked impressed.

"How come you're so certain about that?" he wanted to know.

"Harry has told me a few things about his relationship with Snape, and that's all I'm saying. It's their business."

"We can make it our business," George remarked pensively, holding up an Extendable Ear.

"I don't know why you're so obsessed with using those things to spy on people, especially when they're in bed. I'm wondering if it's because you want to do what Remus and Tonks are doing," Ginny complained.

"Got something to hide, sis?" Fred snickered.

"It would seem that you have tons to hide in the attic back home _and_ over here," Ginny smirked. The twins stopped grinning at once.

"Honestly, guys. The attic. Couldn't you have chosen a more original place?"

"After what we were told about your breaking into the broom shed since you were a kid?" George asked incredulously.

"Sweet?" Fred said, holding out a purple pastille.

"Certainly not. What does it do?"

"Oh, nothing special."

Ginny sniffed scornfully. "Yeah. Right."

"Oh, fine. It turns your body hair purple," George admitted happily. Ginny rolled her eyes.

"I thought as much."

"Gobstones, sis?"

"Sure. But we're using my set."

The twins looked alarmed.

"Unless you're eager about everyone knowing where you keep your joke stash?" Ginny said slyly. The twins admitted defeat.

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Harry and Severus went to bed early after supper. Both were exhausted as a result of their exigent training routine, but Severus was pleased with Harry's progress. A brief nod, a murmured "Mh" and a quick touch on Harry's shoulder or arm were enough to convey his approval.

Severus fell asleep quickly, but sleep was cruel again, pushing him into the bleak abyss of yet another nightmare.

Harry was in a dirty cell lying on a grim small bed, stripped and naked, bleeding from scratches and bites all over his body, his face bruised. Lucius Malfoy was leaning against the bed, whistling melodiously, also naked but perfectly uninjured, his Death Eater mask on, long blond hair falling sleekly over his shoulders, his buttocks sensually rounded and almost silvery-white in the gloom. Severus himself was chained to the wall, robes ragged, wand goodness knows where, trying to free himself and get to Harry. Lucius, still whistling, climbed gracefully onto the bed and pushed Harry over onto his stomach. Harry flopped over without resistance. Lucius looked over his shoulder at Severus.

"You should try this out once, Severus. Fucking a dead body is irresistible."

Severus began to shout curses and powerful spells at Lucius, who, unharmed, shrugged and spat into his palm, smearing his pale erection with saliva. His pubic hair was ash-blond. Suddenly a powerful white light illuminated the filthy cell. Harry Potter was standing next to Severus, tapping the rings and locks with his wand, removing the chains from his wrists and feet.

Severus stared, utterly confused, from the comatose or dead Harry on the bed to the glowing figure freeing him from the chains of his past. Lucius was frozen, the icy blue eyes astonished behind the Death Eater Mask; and as Severus watched, Lucius, the bed and the first Harry suddenly dissolved, and the second Harry stretched out his arm.

"Please take my hand, Severus." The words were uttered tenderly, and the green eyes were filled with understanding. Severus overcame his hesitation and grasped Harry's hand.

He opened his eyes to a familiar globe of light hovering above the bed and Harry's fingers gripping his cold ones.

/Severus, you're with me, you're awake now./

"I dreamt again," Severus muttered, sitting up and taking a deep sip of water from the glass on his nightstand.

/Yes. I…/ Harry took a deep breath. /I hope you won't be mad at me. I used our mind bond to access your nightmare and end it./

Severus stared at him – not with anger, but with admiration. "You used a Dream Bridge?"

/Er, yes. Uhm, I didn't know that it's called a Dream Bridge. I'm sorry. But I could not stand seeing you struggle and ward away enemies in your sleep./ He shifted closer to Severus and put his arms around him. Severus reciprocated, closing his burning eyes as he felt Harry's breath warm up his neck.

"Dream Bridges are rare, Harry. Both Legilimency and Occlumency require absolute control over emotions to ward off external penetration…"

/But when people sleep, they give up control – unless they have been trained so thoroughly in Occlumency that it becomes part of their identity and they are able to ward off the invasion in their sleep. But some things are not external. They are internal. The memories of your past, for example…They come from somewhere inside of you…a place only you know about./

"You sound like the Headmaster," Severus observed stiffly, uncomfortable with Harry's keen insight into his personality.

/When we share a bed and you have a nightmare, I can hear you call me. In my mind. You called my name tonight. Then I woke up./

"It takes an extraordinarily gifted sorcerer to slip into the sleeping mind and actually guide the narrative path of a dream," Severus remarked, choosing to ignore the implications of his subconscious calling out to Harry in his sleep.

Harry shifted the way he always did when he was bashful about something.

/I'm not gifted. But I do have a very competent teacher, albeit a rather irascible one,/ he stated.

"You refused to make a serious effort in your fifth year. When you lost the ability to speak aloud, it became an absolute necessity. You were forced to succeed."

/Weren't we both?/

"Indeed."

/Severus…What you dreamt about tonight-/

"I don't want to talk about it!" Severus flared, rising abruptly on his elbows.

Harry plunged on stubbornly. /You feel guilty as soon as sex enters the picture. You think it's something violent and filthy. It doesn't have to be like that./

"Oh, so you have indulged extensively in carnal collaborations," Severus bit out sarcastically.

/You know what I mean, Severus. If those involved are consensual-/

"As you know, consensual participation can be bought with money."

"Again, it doesn't have to be like that./

"It _is_ like that, you naïve teenage schoolboy!" Severus snapped, growing increasingly incensed.

/Not everything is as black and white as it seems. That's one of the things I've found out about you. And please stop trying to desexualise me./

"Desexualise you?"

Harry's lips brushed his jawline. Severus discovered, to his growing horror, that he was aroused. Harry made the same discovery and very carefully and very deliberately slid his knee between Severus's thighs, drawing back his head to gaze piercingly into his husband's dark eyes. Severus's mouth went dry.

"Harry, you can't possibly want this."

/Shhh. I do want this. Stop telling me what I want and don't want. Have you forgotten that I find you sexy, by the way?/

"You are more insane than all the Hogwarts headmasters put together!"

/Ah, so that's one of the things you have found out about me./

Harry held him close and circled his hips in a slow sweet rhythm, that skilled knee rubbing persistently against his shaft. Severus pulled away a little and adjusted their positions to ensure that Harry could experience the same pleasure. The youth gasped softly in the dark and buried his face into the warmth of Severus's shoulder. They ground slowly against each other, hips rising and falling leisurely. Harry longed to kiss Severus, but he knew instinctively that Severus was not yet ready – he kept averting his face in such a manner that Harry's lips could not meet his. Harry, however, proceeded to nibble at Severus's ear, jaw and neck, and his hands wandered underneath Severus's pyjama shirt to play with his stomach and chest, his heart racing at his own audacity. Long fingers, warm and eager with passion, slipped across his stomach, dipped into his navel, then moved on into his pyjama bottoms. They hesitated, waiting for permission.

/Yes,/ Harry whispered, pushing back Severus's hair to enjoy better access to his earlobe. A zinging sound filled his ears as those fingers played with his genitals. He panted fast, and it was Severus's turn to shush him gently. For a long time, Severus teased and stroked him, uncannily familiar with when Harry was about to achieve orgasm, then holding back and stilling Harry's desperate motions to reach completion. Harry's body was soon slick with sweat underneath his pyjamas, his knee firmly trapped between Severus's thighs. He managed to kick off his pants and his underwear with Severus's help. Severus decided to free his own lower body, his desire spiking when Harry's bare skin pressed again him. He reached down for the young eager organ and resumed his stroking, teasing and rubbing.

Harry asked him a question with his eyes as he drew back his knee and inched his hand towards Severus's groin. Severus took the timid hand and guided him until Harry was confident enough to "go solo".

Harry's face was filled with such passion in the light of Lumos orb that Severus was irrevocably charmed.

They kept each other on edge until Severus yielded, leading Harry to completion with firm slow strokes. Harry gasped into Severus's neck, clutching him so tightly that they both toppled over sideways, the feel of Harry's fingers on his penis sending Severus over the edge with a muffled scream uttered into the hollow of Harry's damp neck. They were exhausted afterwards, lying next to each other. Severus slowly relaxed his arms and pushed Harry away, making sure that their bodies were no longer touching. Beats of silence passed between them. Harry Summoned a towel from their cupboard. With another charm, he dampened it with warm water and started to clean up their sticky bodily fluids. Severus took the towel from him without a word, mopping their hands, stomachs and genitals in a business-like manner. He also retrieved their respective pyjama bottoms and underwear before turning onto his side with his back towards Harry. How was it that he could grunt, sweat and orgasm in Harry's immediate presence while the mere thought of exchanging a kiss made him squirm with embarrassment? He longed dearly to kiss Harry. All over his face. All over his body. On that lovely fresh mouth…

Severus extinguished the globe of light above their heads and succumbed to a heavy sleep. Harry remained awake, one arm behind his head, feeling the heat and passion of what had happened between them succumb to the frost of Severus's insecurities and distrust. Shame and anger welled up in Harry. He rose silently, grabbed his Invisibility Cloak and left the bedroom to be alone with his thoughts.

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	43. Chapter 42

**CHAPTER 42**

**A/N: Hi everyone after a rather long hiatus! To cut a longish story short, I ended up with conjunctivitis (probably due to the terrible weather over here) and am on antibiotic drops – which are drying out my eye and making it itch. Lol! However, I was finally able to continue the story – so here you go! And yes, I know it's a bit short ;-)**

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_We passed, as you put it so accurately, a rather erratic night. Instead, if I may be so audacious to add, of a thoroughly erotic one. _

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Harry deliberately avoided the tea Severus had given him for Christmas and chose a tin of plain black tea instead. A glance at the clock informed him that he was up at two in the morning. He turned on the light, made his tea and sat down at the table, clutching the mug in his cold hands. He stared into the dark depths of the hot beverage. Dark and hot like Severus's eyes in the throes of passion. Harry dug his teeth into his suddenly trembling bottom lip. He let go of the mug and buried his face in his hands. His cheeks were wet when he finally lowered his palms and sipped at his tea, his black eyelashes tangled. The effort of trying to get past Severus's vitriolic barriers was draining him. Maybe he only wanted me for his pleasure – and for free, too, Harry thought bitterly, recalling Severus's self-admitted visits to brothels. He clenched his jaw as he replayed what had happened between them. Had he really wanted the look in Severus's eyes to be more than lust, more than desire for mere sexual gratification? The way Severus had pushed him away. Turned his back on him. Extinguished the Lumos charm without a word. And gone to sleep. Smouldering anger and grief wrestled within Harry's bruised heart. What was he expecting? Romance? Kisses? Flowers? Saccharine pillow talk? All the clichés found in books and Muggle Hollywood flics? Of course not. Not with Severus Snape. Ron and Hermione, Remus and Tonks, Ron's parents…Well, they had what society called _normal _relationships. Then again, who and what was normal? Harry felt that normal was a rather abnormal concept. He finished his tea slowly and rambled around the house in his Invisibility Cloak for a long walk before returning to bed.

He carefully performed a very mild Lumos charm, the dim orb giving him just enough light to slip back underneath the bed sheets without disturbing Severus, who seemed fast asleep with his face still turned towards the wall. Harry sighed softly as he glanced at his husband's back and settled his pillow. Suddenly, a sharp rustle of bedclothes made him freeze. Severus turned towards him, his eyes open and awake. Harry remained perfectly still, locking his green eyes with the black ones. Then Severus reached out and touched his arm gently with a long forefinger; they were both silent, and after a few moments, Severus withdrew his hand, turned back towards the wall and was still. It was impossible for Harry to know if he had gone back to sleep or not. He extinguished the Lumos orb and lay nervously in bed, stroking his forearm absent-mindedly.

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Severus could practically feel Harry's tension filling the room. Touching Harry's arm had led to the opposite result. Instead of soothing the youth, it had made him so jumpy that Severus himself began to feel restless listening to Harry toss and turn in bed. Finally, at about three in the morning, he had had enough. He rolled away from the wall abruptly and closed his fingers gently around Harry's wrist.

"Harry, you will agree with me that we have been having a rather erratic night."

/That's an understatement, Severus,/ Harry stated without changing his position in bed.

Severus cleared his throat. "Harry. I am not…used to…post-coital acts of…romance." He wrinkled his nose as he uttered the last word. Harry uttered a short laugh.

/I can assure you that I have a very limited number of coital acts underneath my belt./

There was an awkward silence.

/Severus,/ Harry said finally, /I am not expecting you to suddenly turn yourself inside out and become someone else together. I'd hate that, actually. I do not even expect you to like me. But I would like some respect. And pushing me away like I was some fuck toy after what we did is a rather poor way of showing respect. And now I would like to sleep./ He firmly twitched his wrist out of Severus's grasp and was still.

Severus's cheeks became hot with shame. His pride and conscience were dented by Harry's quiet but direct rebuke. It was his turn to stare at his husband's back. Embarrassed and humbled, he slid back to his side of the bed and tried to sleep. This time, he dreamt of Lily. His subconscious brought to his consciousness the memories of the time they had spent together as children: Lily on the swing, Lily laughing, Lily hugging him when he muttered and stammered to her that he felt attracted to his own gender. Would she have still hugged him if she had known that he would marry her son and have sex with him? Then adult Lily was standing before him: she smiled at him and gave him a small nod before she and the dream vanished with the rising sun.

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This time, Severus woke up before Harry. With a silent and wandless spell, he raised the shutters slightly so that he could see his husband's features more clearly. Harry had turned on his back in his sleep, one arm over his chest, the other flung out above his head. Severus could not stop looking at him. And Voldemort wanted to kill him. Voldemort had the power to utterly destroy Severus's life all over again if he killed Harry. The mere shadow of the thought struck Severus with terror. He shuddered at the thought of Harry being harmed in any way.

I will live the life of an Inferius. I will be a mere corpse, Severus thought; and Harry will be torn away from the flower of his youth, from all the things he wants in the future. It is better if Harry leaves me of his own accord when he no longer wants to be with me; far better than being ripped away from me and his life by Voldemort. He is so young. How can I expect him to stay with me and live with me like the fairytales suggest? And yet…Severus shifted closer and brushed his knuckles over Harry's cheek. Like his mother and like that meddling codger of a Headmaster, Harry could see into people's hearts and yes, he had the strangest and sweetest ability to forgive, and to love. He watched Harry sleep until the view finally lulled him to sleep without moving from his husband's side.

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Harry absent-mindedly tried to flatten his shower-moist hair on his way down to breakfast. He had awoken to warmth pressed against his body, and the shutters had been slightly raised. With sleepy surprise, he had realised that Severus was spooned up right behind him, his hand on Harry's waist. Harry had quickly slid away to the bathroom, not knowing what to think. One moment Severus pushed him away, the next he pulled him back. It was a conflict, Harry reflected grimly, which was up to Severus to solve.

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	44. Chapter 43

**CHAPTER 43**

**A/N: Dear all, as always, thank you so much for your patience, for reading this story, which is more than four years old, and for your wonderful comments! **

**Together, you have given me the unique pleasure of receiving 2222 reviews as of 2****nd**** July 2013. Special thanks goes to charm13insomnia for the 2222****nd**** review; and to you, RussianWolf7, I offer my apologies for hijacking your sleeping hours ;-D I hope you were able to catch up on your sleep, and I would like to thank all of you again for always encouraging me. This story has only a few more chapters to go, so let's get this show on the road! **

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_After spending the kind of night I did with you, I was pleasantly surprised by our daytime activities. And I know that you were not left unaffected either, Severus. _

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Severus was taciturn during breakfast, while Harry talked with Ron and Hermione, once glancing at Severus when the Potions Master deliberately attempted to eavesdrop on Harry's utterances by nudging his husband's Occlumentic shields. He nodded curt approval when Harry paused, frowned at him and resumed his conversation.

"Does he have to do that?" Ron whispered to Harry.

Harry rolled his eyes and turned to his fried bacon. In the meantime, the twins, unbeknownst to everyone else with the exception of Ginny, had unleashed an Extendable Eye, masked with an Invisibility Spell, underneath the table. Because of said spell, the Eye possessed limited properties and had to be in direct proximity with its target.

Like Muggle video cameras, the Extendable Eyes could record what they saw and stored the information in a small pouch attached to the hand-held string which controlled their movements. Ginny glowered at the twins, but whether it was because she disapproved of their tactics or because the twins had managed to locate two of the Extendable Eyes their mother had confiscated was unknown.

Fred twitched the string, and the Eye moved towards Severus, settling between his feet to gaze up, right up, all the way up into his robes. Horrified, Fred hastily yanked back the Eye, which bounced back and, as he had planned, brushed Harry's leg. The youth looked up and gave Severus a glowing look. Severus, surprised, returned the searching gaze; then, with shock, felt something brush up against his ankle. Fred and George, suppressing twin smirks, withdrew the Extendable Eye, and the latter stuffed the device discreetly into his pocket.

Puzzled at what Severus was sure was blatant flirtatiousness written all over Harry's face, the Potions Master felt his cheeks warm up in the most embarrassing manner…And was Harry nudging his foot? Hermione grinned into her cornflakes and Ron's ears turned pink when the spouses locked gazes for a good sizzling ten seconds or so. Remus smiled to himself while Tonks discussed Ministry politics with Arthur and Molly Weasley.

After breakfast, Harry made sure to accidentally brush his hand against his husband's. Severus's first instinct as a spy was to snap back his hand – but this instinct was overridden by those green eyes, and he let their fingers linger. Why withdraw his hand when the slightest contact with Harry's skin felt so good? As soon as they were in their room, Harry leant against the door, breathing deeply.

/Severus Snape,/ he said finally, /you've been driving me mad throughout breakfast./

"Mr Potter, you were flirting most shamelessly with me in public," Severus remarked, standing awkwardly in the middle of the room. Harry boldly marched up to him and placed his hands on Severus's hips. The Potions Master's eyes flashed once, twice, thrice; he swiftly wrapped a lithe arm around Harry's waist and inserted his sharp knee between the youth's thighs.

_Wow! Finally!_

Severus began to rock his knee slowly, carefully imprisoning Harry's wrist in his long fingers when Harry tried to return the gesture.

"The pleasure is all mine," he whispered into his husband's ear, his breath making the fine downy hair on the young neck flutter.

_And all mine, too!_

Severus skilfully varied the rhythm, switching from painfully slow to breathtakingly fast until Harry was sweating and breathing hard. Halfway through their impromptu session of frottage, Severus removed Harry's spectacles and sent them to his bed with a silent spell, briefly interrupting his knee movements to trail his index finger down Harry's cheek, throat and collarbone.

_Oh Merlin!_

Drawing in his breath with an audible hiss, Severus resumed their activity, moving his knee with increasing speed until-

_I screamed. I could not utter any words, but I could scream like a Mandrake._

Harry's head was thrown back, eyes closed, jaw clenched, caught between tension and its imminent escape.

Severus, who was aching with desire, held him until he was able to regain his balance, watching the blissful expression yield to caution and uncertainty. Their eyes locked, then Harry's right hand reached out to increase his ache, torturing him in the most audacious manner. Their gaze continued, unwavering.

When it was all over, Severus, battling for his composure after enjoying himself most thoroughly, tentatively suggested a sai lesson. Harry understood his husband's awkwardness and interpreted it as Severus's own version of pillow talk: a method to show Harry that he was not pushing him away after exchanging physical intimacy and wished to remain in his company. However, not all the understanding in the world could prevent him from a quick visit to the bathroom to clean up, while Severus quite unabashedly pulled out his wand to solve the matter. Harry's cleaning spells tended to be rather vigorous and, as Severus had warned him, would encourage folliculitis if used on such a delicate area.

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Harry was promptly cornered by Ron in the bathroom.

"So, have you done the deed with Sn – I mean, your husband? Gone _all_ the way?" he asked, unable to suppress his curiosity when he saw Harry's flushed face.

/Come on, Ron. Sex doesn't have to be about penetration,/ Harry observed, at the same time avoiding his friend's question.

"True mate, but the act is defined as having, er, a piece of your body right _inside_ someone else's body."

/ You can achieve the same with a French kiss. Tongues, you know. Or fingers./

"Oh come on, it's not _quite_ the same thing as, you know, using genitalia."

Harry grinned. /I hear you, but the, er, penetration aspect doesn't have to be the most important thing. You can use your nether regions for tons more. And not only your nether regions. And there are other things. Feelings, you know./

Ron coughed. "Why do I have the impression that you know exactly what you're talking about, mate?"

/Because I do know what I'm talking about./

"Uhm. Ew. Er, wow."

Harry laughed. Ron looked torn between horror and curiosity. "So…What's it like with him? I mean…You know…"

/He can be a very sensual man, and while he's still conflicted about the whole thing, we're, uhm, enjoying each other and that's all I'm going to say./

"Do you…well…love the git?"

/Let's just say that 'love' is not enough to describe what we feel for each other,/ Harry smiled, his green eyes sparkling. /It's too complex./

"Right, mate. That I can believe!" Ron snorted.

/So how are things going between Hermione and you?/

Ron went red and grinned.

"We're taking things slowly. The thing is…" his grin faded, "with the war creeping up on us, it feels like we have to rush. Like every second is precious in a way it never was before."

/Time is precious even without war,/ Harry remarked thoughtfully.

"Yeah, true. But the pressure is really on now. Fortunately, life still goes on. Apparition exams and stuff. Left a bit of my…er…you know…_nether_ hair behind during the last practice session. Tonks noticed because my hair landed just nearby."

Harry leant against the wall and laughed himself silly, glad that he and Ron had met in the train compartment all those years ago and become like brothers.

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Severus watched the sai whirl one after the other through the air and stick into the hay, which had been conjured for the purpose of serving as a target. Harry retrieved the blades and threw them simultaneously. Another retrieval later, Harry added a fire spell to his throw, much to Severus's pride. The hay burst into flames when the blades hit, and Harry's Aguamenti charm followed barely a split second later.

"Impressive," he commented. Harry turned around calmly and smiled; he was used to Severus's silence when the man approved of his spellwork; but actual verbal praise was as rare and precious as a phoenix egg. Severus Summoned the weapons and handed them back to his husband, who was tempted to steal a kiss from Severus but wisely refrained from doing so. Severus, however, caught the scorching green glance; he had the distinct feeling that their next night was going to be…interesting. The next day, too, promised to be of major significance: the new formula of the Wolfsbane potion was scheduled to be the subject of much discussion during the Order's conference.

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